Miranda Rights
by katandmoon
Summary: Kendall's world crumbles when Bianca, Erica, Jack, and Ethan disappear. She blames their disappearance on evil Zach Slater. But what if she needs Zach to help her gain custody of Miranda?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"You bastard! You _creep!_"

Knocked off-balance by the screeching female body hurtling into him sideways just as he reached the refuge of his doorway, Zach Slater let out a muffled curse of his own. Instinctively reacting to the surprise attack, he let his attaché case and keys drop to the ground while swinging toward and grasping his assailant around the neck. Before she could utter another squeak, he had her pinned flat up against his door.

Just as instinctively, while still restraining her with his outstretched arms, Zach pivoted back on his heel one split second before the she drew up her knee and launched it at the space his groin had just occupied.

"Pig!" She spat. "Slime!"

The insults bounced harmlessly off his psyche, but Zach sighed wearily at the waste of his valuable free time this encounter promised to be. After too many typically demanding days overseeing the running of his casino, he'd been foolish enough to look forward to a rare quiet, solitary evening at home—so much so that he'd faced the long drive to his cold condo rather than use his luxurious casino suite. He'd needed a change of scene.

It seemed he'd gotten one, if not the one he'd anticipated.

"Let me go or I'll scream!"

"Go ahead," Zach encouraged her. "The security camera over your head is recording everything."

But beneath his coolly imprisoning hands and gaze, Zach was alert to the weakening of his struggling assailant. Her only weapons appeared to be invective, unless he counted the sparks from her eyes attempting to singe him. Deciding she was absolutely no physical threat to him, Zach released his grip from her neck, although he maintained his alert stance.

His unwelcome visitor regarded him fearlessly and with such utter loathing that a tiny, perverse glimmer of admiration lit Zach's consciousness. Despite the stupidity involved in attacking a man twice her size, he had to hand it to Kendall Hart for never hesitating to rush in where even demons feared to tread. Would the two of them _ever_, one of his own, equally perverse, demons whispered to him, have what amounted to a normal conversation?

Kendall rubbed her freed throat, swallowing dramatically. "You choked me!"

"You're still breathing," Zach pointed out reasonably.

His dead calm seemed to set her off again. "Why? Everybody else is out of your way now! Why don't you just kill me like you killed them?"

Even a man like Zach, a man who both courted harsh public opinion and flaunted his contempt for it, was averse to being called a killer after a sixteen-hour day. Kendall would never know she'd aroused his curiosity, if not his alarm, with this strange new murder charge. If that's what it actually was, instead of her indulging in her usual histrionics. If for no other reason, the fact that Zach's son Ethan could tolerate such a drama queen made Zach question how he could ever have fathered the boy.

Casually retrieving his attaché and keys from the ground, Zach nodded at Kendall with a flippant, "Don't tempt me."

She remained planted in his doorway. "That sounds like a threat, Zach."

During Zach's stay in Pine Valley he'd been subjected to enough such suspicion that a lesser man might actually have been driven to murder. Fortunately for his detractors in general and for Kendall right now in particular, Zach was not a murderous man. It was just that he didn't suffer fools gladly, and most people weren't perceptive enough to make the distinction. And in that respect, his brief glimmer of admiration for Kendall had entirely dimmed. Zach simply elbowed aside her slight form, inserted his key in the lock, and prepared to enter his condo as if she'd ceased to exist for him.

That was when Kendall made her next move. As lithe and slender as Zach was tall and broad-shouldered, she slipped swiftly as a cat through the narrow space between him and the doorjamb. Before he had time to flip on a light, she already stood in the center of his living room, facing him with arms folded firmly across her chest, her big blue eyes glaring now with such unabashed revulsion that even Zach was momentarily taken aback.

"Old habits die hard, eh?" he remarked, callously reminding Kendall that she'd once been a frequent visitor to this condo, when it had been occupied by his late unlamented brother Michael. "But your place is across the courtyard. Now run along." Zach tossed his attaché toward a Mies van der Rohe leather chair, following it with his charcoal-gray cashmere overcoat.

"I'm not so easy to get rid of," Kendall insisted. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what you did with them, Zach Slater!"

By now he'd shrugged off his pinstriped Armani suit jacket and was tugging at his tie, giving the illusion of composure. "You'd know more about disposing of bodies—if that's what we're talking about?— than I would, Kendall."

"Well, some people belong in the dump and your brother was one of them!" she retorted. "After what he did to my sister I don't regret my part in putting him there. But some people—some people—" To Zach's surprise Kendall's strident voice suddenly caught on a sob and her eyes filled with tears. She suddenly seemed very vulnerable.

Sensing her distress was genuine, the climate in the room changed subtly for Zach. He didn't like it. It made him feel sympathetic, on a level he didn't care to acknowledge. Her allusion to what Michael had done to Bianca, which he had given her the opening for, deservedly chafed. Yet Kendall was the one laboring under incomprehensible and unwarranted delusions about him, perhaps potentially damaging delusions; she'd provoked this confrontation. She didn't deserve to be humored by him. She needed to be defused.

"And some people belong in bed," Zach said, motioning toward the hallway that led to his bedroom. "Maybe that's your problem. I offered once before to solve it for you. Care to take me up on it now?"

The deliberately crude invitation restored the climate back to icy. The blue glare became even more laser-like and her voice turned back to steel. "That's right, Zach, trash me like you usually do, but that won't fly with the police. I already called them. They should be here any minute."

For the first time, Zach frowned. If she was telling the truth, it was time to call his own chief of security and quietly put him on whatever Kendall was getting at, before things mushroomed. But first, he'd try to call her bluff. "The cops? They must have been delayed. There's the phone. Try again, and be sure to mention the breaking and entering problem in this neighborhood."

Kendall stalked to the phone on the end table he indicated. "This is your last chance, Zach," she threatened, cradling the handset. "Tell me exactly what you did with them—or I really am calling Derek Frye."

"What I did with whom?"

Against all possibility, her wide eyes widened even farther. "Give it up, Zach! My god, even an unfeeling bastard like you can't be cold enough to keep pretending you don't know what I'm talking about."

The scene was beginning to take on an almost surreal quality that Zach might have enjoyed in his perverse way, if he wasn't really beginning to scent trouble. "I'd be pretending if I gave you the impression I did. Or that I cared." Leaving Kendall standing with the phone in her hand, he headed toward his bedroom, camouflaging his increasing apprehension with nonchalance. As she sputtered, he paused to add over his shoulder, "Give Chief Frye my regards."

"That's_ it_? Okay, Zach, sweet dreams, before they come to haul you away and throw you in the deepest, darkest prison to rot for the rest of your life! But where you really belong is hell." Then Kendall aimed one last arrow in her quiver, the one that stopped Zach dead in his tracks, knocked his mask of indifference from his face, and brought him back to her side in a few long strides. "All you've ever done from the moment you stepped foot in Pine Valley is pretend," she hissed. "You pretended you cared about Bianca, you pretended you cared about Ethan. You even pretended you cared about my mother when she made the _huge_ mistake of working at your casino in Las Vegas. Well, Erica's paid for that mistake with her life! They all have! My mother…my sister…your son, they're all _dead_—I _know_ they're dead, and _it's all because of you_, you beast!"

Forcing himself to take a deep breath and steady his voice, Zach demanded, "I'm only going to ask this once, Kendall. Where are Bianca, Ethan, and Erica right now?"

Kendall's laugh was tinged with hysteria. "Where are they? Oh, that's rich! You're asking me? How should I know? They're wherever the Cambias jet you sabotaged went down! I guess you don't listen to your car radio. It was just all over the news!"

Without another word, Zach crossed to his entertainment center and turned on the local radio news channel, in time to hear the announcer say, "There's been no new word on the missing Cambias company jet expected to arrive four hours ago at Montrose Regional Airport in southwest Colorado. The jet carried Cambias co-CEO's Ethan Cambias and Bianca Montgomery, Ms. Montgomery's mother Erica Kane, and Ms. Kane's fiancé, former Pine Valley district attorney Jackson Montgomery, now chief counsel for Cambias. No contact with the plane has been reported since a routine communication with the tower at Denver International Airport earlier today, but no decision regarding a search has been announced. In other news—"

Zach clicked it off, numb. _Bianca_…_Ethan_…. "Miranda? Where is she?" he asked in a terrible voice reflecting the fear in his eyes.

"That's where you screwed up," Kendall cried. "You only got rid of one of the Cambias heirs. Ethan's gone, but Miranda—oh my god, you'll never get your dirty hands on my niece!"

Zach recoiled as if she'd struck him. Their situations had entirely reversed, now Kendall had the upper hand, the one she'd had from the instant she barreled into him tonight, only he'd been too blinded by his offhand arrogance toward her to see it. As always, he would pay for the lapse, but any soul-searching would have to wait until he could get to the bottom of this. He needed another deep, calming breath before he trusted himself to speak.

"Miranda's my niece, too, Kendall. I'd never harm her or anyone she loves. I am going to put my people on it right now, and if there has in fact been an accident—"

"_If there's been an accident_!" she echoed in disbelief. "We both know it wasn't an accident! As if anyone in their right minds would trust 'your people' not to cover up for you, you lying scumbag."

A muffled siren whined outside, followed by car doors slamming and a measured knocking on the door.

"Well, what do you know. It sounds like the _real_ cops are here," Kendall said triumphantly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

If Kendall were hoping Zach was about to be summarily read his rights, clapped in handcuffs, and transported to the Pine Valley Jail—which Zach knew she desperately was—she was to be disappointed. Not only was there zero evidence tying him to the missing flight, the Pine Valley Police Benevolent Association, the Pine Valley Police Department Boys and Girls Clubs, and the Pine Valley Police Department Retired Officers Association had each been a recipient of a very generous check from the Seasons Casino Group, a check signed by Zachery Slater, President. Police Chief Derek Frye of the Pine Valley Police Department, when Zach courteously invited him in, had clearly not arrived to arrest Zach on suspicion of murder. Under the circumstances, however, Zach couldn't take any pleasure in Kendall's visible disappointment at Derek's deferential manner to them both—a manner considerably more deferential to himself than to Kendall.

After exchanging the minimum of greetings, Derek began by loudly clearing his throat and stating awkwardly, "Er, I'm sorry to intrude, but I've just received some very troubling news."

Kendall spoke up first. "Derek, that's why I'm here, too. And you've come to arrest Zach, so go ahead and do it. I'll follow you down to the station and give you my statement."

"Excuse me, Kendall?" Derek didn't conceal his surprise. "Arrest Mr. Slater? What are you talking about?"

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" she asked impatiently. "You don't need to beat around the bush for my sake. You know what Zach's done to Bianca, and Ethan, and my mother, and Jack, and you're not letting him get away with it. You're charging him with multiple murders."

Derek's gaze went from Zach, whose impassive mask was back in place, to Kendall, who seethed with anxiety. Then he slowly removed a large white handkerchief from his trouser pocket and nervously wiped his forehead with it.

"Well, Derek?" Kendall prodded. "You are, aren't you?"

"Er, no, Kendall. I understand you're upset, but you're jumping to some unjustifiable conclusions. I am not here to arrest anybody for anything." The police chief looked ruefully at Zach. "I apologize for this misunderstanding, Mr. Slater. I assume you've also heard the news reports abut the missing jet?"

Zach nodded.

"Unfortunately, the Montrose sheriff's office released information to the media before they even communicated with me," Derek continued. "I've just spoken with them, and I wanted to personally follow up on it with both you and Ms. Hart."

"I appreciate that, Chief," Zach replied quietly. "Would you care to sit down? I suppose you can't accept a single-malt Scotch or a snifter of cognac while you're on the job, but I can offer a club soda on the rocks. And you, Kendall?" he added blandly.

"Wait a minute, you're letting Zach get _away_ with this?" Kendall, who was still standing, gasped.

Derek sank down into the deep black leather sofa. "Thanks. Club soda would be great. And Kendall, there could be any one of a number of reasons why the Cambias jet is missing, so let's not cast aspersions on Mr. Slater, and let's not assume the worst."

"But Derek, if you don't, he'll get away with it, don't you see that?" she persisted.

"Kendall, as I just said, I realize you're upset, but you're jumping the gun. I'd hate to see Mr. Slater sue you for slander."

Just then Zach returned from the kitchen area with a club soda for Derek and for himself, and joined Derek on the sofa, while Kendall remained standing defiantly, with her arms refolded across her chest. Sipping his drink in an effort to soothe his dry mouth and gain some time to tame the chaotic thoughts wreaking havoc behind his expertly controlled surface, Zach envied the matter-of-fact but tactful way Derek Frye handled Kendall. Of course, Kendall wasn't accusing Frye of murder and calling for his head on a platter.

Finally Zach broke the tense silence. "For the moment I'll overlook it. Now, a plane carrying some of our loved ones has gone astray and no one is yet able to explain why. I just have two questions. The first one is for you, Chief Frye. Say the plane remains unaccounted for. What happens next?"

Derek shifted uncomfortably. "An investigation will be mounted under the supervision of the National Air Traffic Safety Board. If anything is found, the FBI will join the investigation."

Zach took another sip of his drink. "I see."

"He sees, all right. He sees that he's clearing out of town tomorrow if you don't throw him in jail tonight, Derek!" Kendall burst out.

"Please, Kendall, I've cautioned you—," Derek began.

"It's all right, Chief. It's been a trying evening for both of us, and Kendall's understandably not quite rational any longer. I can't fault her for that," Zach interjected so smoothly that if he were capable of impressing himself, he would have been impressed. "Which brings me to my second question, which I'll throw open to the floor. Where is my niece, Miranda? I understand she wasn't on the flight."

Kendall gasped once more, but in Derek's presence seemed to think better of verbally or physically assaulting Zach again, confining herself to a stiff, "That's one of his business. Miranda is fine and that's all he needs to know," addressed to Derek.

"Why don't you tell the man, Kendall," Derek sighed. "His son was on the flight, so it seems to me that whether you like it or not, you're in this together until it's resolved."

"Two against one, huh? Derek, don't you get it? Zach doesn't care about Miranda any more than he cares about Ethan. He just wants to use her to get to me. Well, it won't work."

Zach's reply was also to Derek. "Then, since there's no point in pressing that issue further tonight, I'll table it—for the moment."

Derek placed his half-finished drink carefully on the glass cocktail table and rose to his feet. "Sounds like a plan," he muttered. "Look, I wish I had more to tell you folks, but that's all I have. I'm afraid I have a few other calls to make, so I'll be on my way. As soon as we get any new reports, and I'll pray they're good ones, I'll be in touch. Kendall, can I walk you over to your door on my way to my car?"

She sniffed, "I can see my own self home, thank you very much, Derek. Although you might keep an eye on my back. I don't think even Zach would stick a knife in it if you're watching."

"I'm sure _he_ wouldn't, " Derek agreed affably, treating her with a forbearance very much admired by Zach. "After you, then, Ms. Hart."

With a final lingering, hostile glare at Zach, Kendall turned on her heel with great dignity and wordlessly preceded Derek out the door he'd just opened for her. Derek stayed behind for a moment to shake hands with Zach and reassure him that everything that could be done, was being done.

Zach thanked him wearily, but sincerely. He was discerning that in Derek Frye he had, if not a personal advocate, at least not another adversary like Kendall. Probably Zach's generous contributions to Pine Valley's finest had helped smoothed the path between police chief and casino magnate, but Kendall's antipathy towards him, her wild accusations, had not seemed to influence Derek against him whatsoever if only from their constant repetition, as Zach might have expected. It was the one good thing that had emerged from this nightmare.

"Y'know, Slater," Derek said in an almost conspiratorial tone as they both watched Kendall walk quickly across the courtyard to her own condo, "when Kendall refuses to see reason, a team of wild horses can't make her. She's just like her mother that way. I've dealt with them both so many times I'm immune, but I've got the scars." He chuckled, then sobered. "But at times like these, families need to put their differences aside and pull together. So if I happen to find out where Miranda is, and it's very likely I will, I'll let you in on the secret."

For the first time that night, a genuine smile flitted across Zach's face. "That would put me immeasurably in your debt, Chief Frye."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Out of the sight of witnesses, Kendall slammed the door of her condo behind her with an unsuppressed sob. Her ramrod straight back slumped and her knees buckled. She crumpled to the floor, her head bowed, her face creased in pain, her arms wrapped tightly around herself in a vain effort to contain the inexpressible ache that radiated from within her chest, where her heart was still somehow beating despite the mortal blows it had taken tonight.

"Bianca," she whispered. "You can't be gone. You can't. Erica wouldn't _let _anything happen to you! Erica…oh, mother…_mother_," she sobbed.

Was this to be her just punishment, then, for taking such a long, long time to let herself love and appreciate her mother and sister, and making all their lives so miserable before she did? That almost as soon as they'd all put the past behind them and become a real family at last, a family whose love and acceptance of Kendall was all she'd ever really wanted and had finally allowed herself to deserve, Bianca and Erica were taken from her?

Even Jackson, annoying and self-righteous as he often was, was still Kendall's closest thing to a father figure. The prospect of losing him too made him finally seem beloved. And Ethan…simple young Ethan Ramsey when he came to Pine Valley, now known to be Ethan Cambias. Just like the battle she'd fought to be recognized as Erica's child, Ethan's struggle to be recognized by his long lost father had succeeded…but the result was far different.

There'd been no happy ending for Ethan and his father, who'd been forcibly revealed as the revolting Zachery Slater, AKA Alexander Cambias, Jr., younger when he unwittingly fathered Ethan than Ethan was now.

Against Zach's wishes and all his dire warnings of spiritual destruction, Ethan had taken the reins of the Cambias family business empire. Almost immediately, Zach's prediction had begun to come true. Kendall had seen Ethan sacrifice his principles for the sake of wealth and power. His behavior was now verging on sacrificing his and Kendall's relationship as well….

Kendall hugged herself tighter and tried to reorient her thoughts.

It was all Zach's fault, Zach, who continued to lurk like a specter in the distance, riling his son up and making things worse to the point Kendall hated the sight of him. She needed to reserve all her wrath for Zach; it was disloyal to even think negatively of Ethan right now. No matter what, Ethan was the man she l…well, still cared about.

He had made love to her just this morning before embarking on a business trip together with Bianca—with whom he shared the helm at Cambias Industries—Cambias chief counsel Jack, and Erica, whose company, New Beginnings, Cambias had formed a joint venture with to construct and manage an exclusive health spa and ski resort for the superrich in the mountains of southwestern Colorado. They had taken off in the company jet from Pine Valley Municipal Airpark, flown by Cambias' long-time pilot. In these days of strict airport security whose gaps still left travelers feeling unsafe, what a false sense of security it had given Kendall to wave goodbye to a plane on which everyone onboard was family, lover, or trusted employee.

_Idiot_, she moaned internally. Unlike an airline aircraft, the Cambias private plane was neither rigorously guarded twenty-four hours a day in its private hangar nor rigorously inspected on a strict schedule when it wasn't in use. _Oh, Ethan, the jet was a sitting duck_.

And Zach was a sneak thief, and god only knew how many more sneak thieves just like himself he kept off the streets at his sleazy casino. They would do anything they had to to keep feeding the gambling addictions that he encouraged. So if Zach lacked the technical expertise himself necessary to sabotage a plane to bring it down mid-flight, Kendall was positive he could easily bribe or bully someone to do it for him. What better way for Zach to get rid of Ethan and Bianca in one fell swoop—a way in which his own filthy fingerprints would never show—and reclaim the company for himself? No one had ever really believed Zach had changed his entire identify to avoid the taint of Cambias, least of all Kendall. He'd just bided his time until it was easy pickings.

Had Zach's hideous patience, and his own naïve lack of vigilance, sealed Ethan's fate? All their fates?

_I can't afford to fall apart now_, Kendall told herself sternly. _Not until this is over. Zach wasn't as clever as he thought…_so what else is new_! Because there's still a Cambias heir. Miranda wasn't on that plane. _Zach knew that much, but that was all he knew, no thanks to that interfering Keystone Kop Derek Frye. But cops didn't make that much money; Derek was probably on Zach's payroll, too, or else hoped to be. Her baby niece's fate rested entirely on Kendall's slim shoulders. They would never fail her, Kendall resolved.

The resolution gave her the strength to climb back to her feet and flex her cramped muscles. "You thought it was the end, but this is only the beginning, Zach Slater," she said aloud. As if in response to the sound, the telephone rang. Kendall jumped, swore, then went to answer it, her heart in her throat. "Hello?" she said in a low voice.

"Kendall? Kendall, honey, is that you?"

"Myrtle! Oh, Myrtle." Kendall felt herself begin to crumple again at the sound of her grandmother's oldest friend's warm voice. "Listen, something's happened. I—I was about to call you."

"I know, honey, I know. Derek Frye just stopped by…." Myrtle's words trailed off for several seconds. Kendall heard her blowing her nose, and then she came back on the line. "I'm sorry, Kendall, I'm a little emotional right now, and that's not going to get us anywhere."

"For god's sake, Myrtle!" Kendall cried. "Let it out! That's all we can do right now!"

"No, it isn't, honey. We can't let ourselves fall apart yet."

"That's what I was just telling myself. But you know what, Myrtle? That's bullshit!" Kendall said fiercely. "We can cry, rant, rave, throw things, or break into a million pieces, and it won't change anything. So we might as well go off if we need to."

"Oh, Kendall, that's not good, honey. We don't even know anything yet. The flight is late, that's all they know. We can't lose hope yet, honey."

"You don't need to be strong for me, Myrtle. I'll cope, I promise."

There was a beat of silence at Myrtle's end. "Kendall, there's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"

"What do you mean?"

"Honey, you're not a quitter. I thought you'd be chartering a flight and hiring investigators to go look for them by now."

"Well, that's a thought. If Derek's any example of the kind of detectives the government's going to put on this case, I could hire the Three Stooges and get better results, but…." It was Kendall's turn to lose it, but she hastily swallowed her tears. "You see, Myrtle, I know exactly what happened, so there's just no use."

Myrtle sounded stunned. "Why, Kendall, darlin'! Even Derek can't tell us that yet! How could you know?"

"It's a long story, but like I said, Derek's an idiot. First of all, how is Miranda?"

"I just checked on the wee little lamb. She's sleeping like an angel, bless her little heart. Who would have thought, when darlin' Bianca dropped her off this morning…." There was another loud _honk_ at Myrtle's end of the line.

_Don't start, Myrtle, please don't start_, Kendall thought desperately. _I won't be able to bear it_.

"Sorry, honey, I'm okay now. Look, why don't you come over here, and stay with me for a little while? You know I have plenty of room for you and Miranda both. You really shouldn't be all by yourself while we're waiting for—for news, darlin'."

Kendall paused. "That's a good idea, Myrtle. And there may be…reporters hanging around here. I don't want to see them and I don't want to expose Miranda to them either. I'll throw some things together and come. Do you have enough supplies for Miranda for another night?"

"Bianca brought a full box of Pampers with her, and I swear she left a whole case of baby food and formula in the kitchen too. There's just one more thing, darlin'. Have you talked to Greenlee yet?"

"Greenlee? Oh my god, no. I didn't even think of her. Do you think she's heard by now?"

"Derek told me he was going to see her and Ryan when he left me. It'll be hard on her to hear her father's missing along with your mother."

"She'll be devastated when she hears Jack was on the plane." Kendall bit down on her lip. "Myrtle, I really need to see Miranda, but I want to make sure Greenlee's okay, too—."

"You can't be in two places at once, darlin', and you're reeling yourself. Tell you what. I'll call Greenlee while you're on your way over. I'll tell her you and Miranda are both with me, and I'll invite her and Ryan to join us. We can all wait for news together. Miranda's her cousin, you know."

"Do that, Myrtle." H_aving_ _Ryan and Greenlee with us gives Miranda another level of protection_, Kendall realized silently. "Okay, I'm on my way."

Swinging into action, she threw random items of clothing and underwear into her overnight bag. It felt good to have something to _do_, even something as mindless as packing a few things, and to have a goal, and then at the end of it…to not feel so all _alone_.

She could already feel Myrtle's comforting arms closing around her…Miranda nestling sleepily in her arms. It would help to see Greenlee, too. No matter how frequently the two of them sparred, Greenlee was as precious to her as her own sister Bianca. And even though it had been tough to accept Greenlee's marriage to her former lover Ryan Lavery, Kendall had gotten past it and now considered him a close friend as well, even if they didn't always see eye to eye either.

They might be all that was left of her family. She needed contact with them all right now, more than she'd ever needed anything in her life.

The respectable Myrtle, unfortunately, seemed to have a soft spot for Zach Slater, a soft spot Kendall believed could only be explained by Myrtle's rather surprising ancient past as a carnival worker, or carny, as Myrtle called it in her unvarnished way. Myrtle claimed that working with down-on-their-luck roustabouts, clowns, and side show performers had taught her to look way below the surface of a person, and she prided herself on being able to see some good in even the lowest form of human life…even Zach Slater.

Kendall knew she would have to be both tactful and convincing in order to get Myrtle to concede that despite the authorities' refusal to put him away, Zach was both responsible for the loss of their loved ones, and a danger to Miranda. But so much depended on it that this was one argument Kendall had no intention of losing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Zach had been pacing. Though his body was dead tired, his brain was aswirl, aswirl with questions, denials, prayers, and curses, animating his limbs with a restless need to keep moving, lest he come to a stop to find himself facing a still image in his mind's eye too horrible to contemplate. With each step he dragged along every one of his uncounted personal demons, all of them and their friends too, it seemed, each one clutching gleefully at his legs with sharp claws, trying to force him to stop. None of Zach's agitation showed on his almost insolently handsome face. But when the phone rang he was on it before the first ring had even faded.

"Slater!" he barked.

"Mr. Slater, it's Derek Frye. I do have a small piece of news for you."

"_Yes_?"

"I just left Myrtle Fargate's boardinghouse. She's a friend of the Kane family—"

"I know Mrs. Fargate."

"Well, Mr. Slater, it seems Mrs. Fargate was babysitting your niece Miranda while Bianca was away. The baby is all tucked in and even a Mack truck couldn't go through Myrtle to get to that child."

Zach let out a breath he didn't even realized he'd been holding. "Thank you, Chief."

"My pleasure to deliver news people want to hear. I'm afraid I don't get to do it too often on this job."

"The job must be enormously demanding, Chief. Whenever you have a free evening, you and your guest will always have an open invitation to dinner and a show at the Seasons East."

Derek hesitated. "Thanks, Mr. Slater, but it'll just be me. I'm flying solo these days. I just might take you up on it, though. Is there someone I should check in with when I get there?"

"That would be Edie, my executive assistant. I'll tell her to be on the lookout for you. She'll see that you're taken care of."

The men exchanged perfunctory goodbyes and hung up, Zach to resume his pacing, with less intensity than before, now he was reassured of Miranda's whereabouts. The image of her beautiful, innocent face swam forward into his field of inner vision.

Abruptly, Zach's pacing came to a halt. Losing their grip on his legs, his demons were unceremoniously dumped in a snarling pileup on the floor. Before they could free themselves from each other and reattach themselves to him—and before Zach could indulge in the rare event of changing his mind—he had grabbed his overcoat and keys, and headed out the door.

Pine Valley was a deceptively small town. Its assets would have been the envy of a much larger community: The headquarter offices of several major multinational corporations, a major news magazine, a university, a research and teaching hospital, and an international airport. It was convenient to every large city on the east coast, especially New York. It even boasted the residence of international celebrity businesswoman Erica Kane. Yet Pine Valley's permanent population was surprisingly small. It was also surprisingly inbred; there was unusually little segregation along professional, social, cultural; or even age lines—which was not to say there was universal harmony among the inhabitants. There wasn't.

Most personal relationships in Pine Valley were both ephemeral and turbulent while they lasted. Marriages, business alliances, friendships…all were subject to frequent and, sometimes surprising to the world at large, reshuffling. But if there was one thing that could unite the citizenry of Pine Valley and make them temporarily overlook their reciprocal and some quite historic animosities, it was having a tragedy befall one of them. Or even a potential tragedy. That was the signal for the gathering of the old guard, and a temporary ceasefire.

Between the media announcements, Derek's visits to the most closely affected households, and many frantic phone calls, the word was spreading quickly that the Cambias company jet containing their own Erica, Bianca, Jack, and Ethan was missing. The latest news bulletin was not good: Southwest of Denver, the flight path had apparently encountered a late winter snowstorm. The storm had been predicted, and ordinarily should not have affected the flight itself, which could simply have flown above it. But the region was mountainous, and the pilot wasn't particularly known to be familiar with it.

All those things together spelled potential disaster. Hearing this, Pine Valleyites shivered and, echoing Myrtle, wanted to be together with their loved ones, safely on the ground.

The beacon of light and warmth that shone through any storm from Myrtle's boardinghouse drew them like floundering ships to safe harbor. Her large white clapboard colonial home had already sheltered many a wanderer who could find shelter nowhere else. But as it loomed out of the darkness at Zach, he hesitated. The twin agonies of fear and hope now warring within him were extracting payment from him for his other sins; tonight, Zach expected to pay one way or another for his cowardice with Myrtle.

Myrtle Fargate was one of the few people who never outright condemned him for either being the brother of Michael Cambias, or hiding his original identity when he first came to Pine Valley. Zach wasn't sure why. Ironically, Myrtle was probably the only soul in town whose condemnation of him he would have respected, because it would have been hypocrisy-free. And if anyone outside the immediate Kane/Montgomery family should have hated him, that person was Myrtle: Myrtle had adored Bianca Montgomery from the moment she was born, and Bianca had been living at Myrtle's when Michael raped her.

Myrtle's house was _where_ Michael had raped Bianca.

Like everyone else he felt the pull of Myrtle's and Zach had driven past her place many times—always grief-stricken that the younger brother he'd loved had grown so monstrous and caused so much pain before eventually being shot dead by his victim, always guilt-stricken by his desertion of Michael years before, always too ashamed of both to knock on Myrtle's door. She'd always been fair to him, if blunt, when they met elsewhere, so it wasn't because he expected her to slam the door in his face if she found him on the other side of it.

No, he'd avoided meeting Myrtle on her own turf _because_ Myrtle would welcome him. And because of his initial deception, he didn't deserve to be welcomed by her, to be treated as a guest in her home, haunted by so many ghosts he'd had a hand in constructing. He had no such qualms about deceiving one of his own equals, or worse, if the situation called for it. But Myrtle was one of his betters. True, and in the pure cold night air, Zach foully cursed and reminded himself that inside Myrtle's honest boardinghouse was his niece, the niece forbidden him by Kendall Hart.

Kendall's car wasn't yet parked anywhere in the vicinity. _Good_, Zach thought with satisfaction. That meant if he was fast enough he could gain entrance, hold Miranda to his heart again and let her know she was still surrounded by his love in the language he'd so sweetly discovered that he and she shared, and be gone before Kendall or anyone else interfered.

He should have known Myrtle would make it easy for him, greeting him with a simple, "Do come in, Mr. Slater. It's about time," before he opened his mouth. And then he was in the same space where Michael had violently fathered Miranda…and then it wasn't so easy, but Myrtle knew what to say again.

"I'm praying to the good lord above that Ethan comes home safe and sound. I also prayed _you'd_ finally see fit to break the ice and come here tonight, Mr. Slater, once Kendall told you I had Miranda. Miranda needs _every_one in her family right now. Would you like to go up and see her? She's gotten a little restless but you're just the man to rock her back to sleep."

"Please lead the way, Mrs. Fargate. I wish you would call me Zach." Zach decided he would not waste valuable seconds now explaining that his information about Miranda came from Derek and that if Kendall had her way, he'd already be on death row.

"_Zach_. And you must call me Myrtle."

Upstairs, Miranda was wide-awake and fussing in a small room colorfully papered and cozily furnished with her crib, changing table, rocking chair, and countless stuffed animals and toys. "She's teething," Myrtle whispered when they entered the bedroom. But Miranda's irritable cries began to change to soft coos when she saw Zach, and she stared at him in fascination through the crib railing as he neared the crib.

As always when he was in the same room as Miranda, Zach felt his heart turn over in his chest and his eyes moisten. In appearance, she was entirely her mother's daughter, with Bianca's beautiful dark hair and eyes, porcelain skin, and winsome features, with nothing to show from her father's side of the family at all. Still, Zach felt the strongest connection to her that he'd felt to anyone since he'd faked his death left home at the age of seventeen, leaving fourteen-year-old Michael behind to bear the brunt of their father's brutality alone.

He didn't wait for Myrtle's permission to lift Miranda in his arms. The baby raised up her own little arms to him with a happy gurgle, and he almost went into a trance, hardly even aware of how she went from the crib to Zach's broad chest. She pressed herself against him with a content little sigh, while he carefully held her, marveling at the perfection of this moment and the peace with which it had the power to fill him. _You won't remember this, little one. _ _I will never forget it_.

Miranda looked up at him with a winning smile, for all the world as if she were privy to Zach's innermost thoughts and was assuring him that she, too, would never forget. Beneath her relaxed form cuddling against his chest, his heart flip-flopped in the other direction, and his hold on her tightened.

_Ethan was once this small and helpless and innocent. Would things have been different between us if I'd held him this way then? Because it's too late now_, he realized sadly. _It was too late before tonight. If he survives, and gods help me but I want him to, it will still be too late for us._

From the doorway, Myrtle gave a little chuckle. "She only does that with you. She's like a little duckling, imprinting on you."

Zach grinned at Myrtle and lightly stroked Miranda's cheek. "Hey, little ducking. I hear you're growing some teeth. I didn't know ducklings had teeth."

"They don't. But _I _do. And if you don't put Miranda down and get the hell out of here right now, you're going to feel every one of them!" Kendall cried from behind Myrtle.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"Kendall!" Myrtle quivered, pulling Kendall out into the hallway. "I'm sorry, darlin', but you may not talk to Mr. Slater like that when he's a guest in my home."

"I'm sorry, too, Myrtle, but Zach's a rattlesnake! We can't let him anywhere near Miranda."

"Kendall…we've all had a terrible shock tonight. But we still don't know what—what's happened, and we can't afford to turn on each other while we're waiting to find out."

"But Zach knows what's happened, Myrtle. He's making fools of all of us by coming here. He's the one who did this. He wanted to get rid of Ethan and Bianca, and—"

"_Kendall_."

"Don't let Kendall upset you, Mrs.—Myrtle," Zach stated firmly over Myrtle's head. Intent on their discussion, neither woman had noticed him place Miranda back in her crib with a kiss on her head, and join them. His hazel eyes, as temperate as an early autumn afternoon while gazing upon Miranda, narrowed to wintry slits. "It's because she is so upset that she is repeating the same fantasy to you that Derek and I endured from her earlier."

Myrtle held up her hands in a way that brooked no nonsense. "Children, please, let's go downstairs before we disturb Miranda. Kendall, I'll need you to help me fix a tea tray. Greenlee and Ryan will be here soon, and Opal and Palmer, and I've nothing ready. Zach, I'll need you to act as host while we're busy in the kitchen."

No general in history had ever marshaled such unwilling troops. But no troops in history had ever been under the command of Myrtle Fargate, whose fragile exterior and Southern charm belied her impenetrable core of solid steel. With ill but silent grace Zach and Kendall followed Myrtle down the stairs. To Zach's displeasure, they found Greenlee and Ryan already at the front door. He was certainly being outnumbered…but he was accustomed to that.

The Laverys were no more pleased to see Zach than he was to see them, and they were far less expert at concealing it. Once more Myrtle ignored the heavy tension riddling the atmosphere, giving them a warm reception, seating them in the living room, and asking if there was any news.

"We didn't hear anything," Greenlee sighed. "Did we, Ryan?"

"Nothing but sports scores and traffic reports and commercials," was the gloomy response.

"We'll all pray that no news is _good_ news," Myrtle said briskly.

"Yeah, why don't we do that," Kendall muttered. "Myrtle, really, I—"

"You were going to help me in the kitchen, weren't you, Kendall honey? Zach, darlin', you just gave me a start standing over there in the dark. Won't you please sit down and visit with Ryan and Greenlee while we rustle up the tea."

Ryan choked, which was also the audible equivalent of his facial expression, and Greenlee had to give him a discreet thump on the back.

"Er, may we go look in on Miranda first?" Greenlee sounded almost desperate. "Come on, Ryan, I'm dying to see her, aren't you?" She sprang to her feet.

From where he stood at the very edge of the room, close to the entryway and escape, Zach was able to survey the company with a veneer of detached amusement. A late-night tea party with the estimable Ryan Lavery was hardly the way he'd have chosen to end the evening, and he didn't plan to. Ryan and his bossy little wife clearly shared Zach's distaste for the arrangement, but lacked the self-possession allowing Zach to appear completely unruffled by it. And behind Myrtle's stalwart back, Kendall didn't hide her outrage at Myrtle's determination to treat Zach as one of them, as Miranda's uncle, instead of the murderous thug Kendall was so convinced he was.

If this had been a less charged occasion, Zach felt he might have acceded to Myrtle's wishes and outlasted them all. He not only respected Myrtle, he suspected his feelings for the wise old woman ran deeper than that, and he couldn't help being touched by her so frankly treating him as a member of the extended family that he actually was—rather than the wicked outsider his fellow family members considered him. Nevertheless, he decided against either inflicting them on himself or inflicting himself on them any longer.

Miranda was his highest priority. Zach's heart still rang with seeing her, and these people—especially Kendall—would only make the tune go sour.

He said quietly, "Myrtle, thank you for your hospitality. But rather than do that, I'll take my leave for now."

"I don't mind telling you I wish you'd keep the vigil here with us, Zach," she replied soberly, crossing the room to see him out, "but I know you'll be keeping it here," she lightly tapped him on the chest, "and that's what counts."

He nodded assent and headed back out into the night, almost wishing he could be a fly on the wall after he left.

Sipping her tea, the making of which had been interrupted by Palmer and Opal Cortlandts' arrival, Kendall was still fuming. "That son of a bitch Zach Slater! Myrtle, I want you to promise me that from now on you won't let him within a mile of Miranda."

"Slater was here?" Palmer asked. "Whatever for?"

"For once I have to agree that Kendall makes sense," Ryan chimed in promptly, talking over Palmer. "Slater's a loose cannon."

"The man is Miranda's uncle," Myrtle tried to answer Palmer.

"Brother of that no-good rapist, Michael Cambias, you mean," Palmer harrumphed.

Opal clucked, "Oh, Palmer, that's old news."

"Zach's worse than a loose cannon and I think he's worse than Michael, too," Kendall replied bitterly, tying both halves of the conversation together. "I mean, do you really think it's a coincidence that Ethan and Bianca, the heads of Cambias, are both on a plane that just _happens_ to be missing? And the only reason Miranda wasn't with them was because she was stuffy this morning and Bianca didn't want to take her up in the air."

"What are you saying, that Zach Slater killed his own son? My god, you're paranoid, Kendall!" Greenlee exclaimed. "I know there's no love lost between him and Ethan, and frankly I wouldn't blame Zach for offing that nasty condescending twit who his orders my father around like his personal footman, but it would have been a hell of a lot cheaper and more efficient to just hire a hit man, don't you think? Especially considering the business Zach is in?"

"Zach Slater is in the casino business, and may I remind you that Opal and I are frequent customers. That is the _only_ business he's in," Myrtle stuck in again.

"Thank you so much, Greenlee," Kendall sniffed, "and you too, Myrtle, for being so supportive."

Ryan glanced at his wife. "Greenlee, we don't know what Slater's capable of. I think Kendall's right to be concerned he might have something to do with the plane's disappearance, at least until we know he didn't."

"Well, I never!" Myrtle sounded disgusted. "Kendall, what am I going to do with you, honey? And Ryan, I thought you knew better."

"Myrt, you sound like you think Slater's A-OK," Opal commented. "Do you know something the rest of us don't?"

"Opal, honey, I've been around a long, long time, so long I sometimes wonder what I'm still doing here," Myrtle began. "But the good lord knows what's best, and he's given me that time for a reason, so I've always tried to put it to good use."

"Myrtle, are you ever planning to get to the point?" Palmer complained.

Opal frowned. "Let her finish, you old coot!"

Shooting Palmer a quelling look, Myrtle continued, "During my time on earth, I've taken the measure of _many_ a man, some who knew I was doing it—and some who didn't." Her eyes briefly twinkled. "I'm telling you all, Zach may be many things, but he is no killer. Wherever our loved ones may be right now, they're not there because Zach Slater put them there."

"Myrtle, you don't know everything," Kendall said sullenly into her teacup.

Greenlee grimaced. "Kendall, think about it: We both know Ethan's been acting like a major ass lately, and that's _really_ what this is all about. Ethan wants to string Zach up because Zach's trying to put him in his place despite Ethan's oh so many charms, and you're involved with Ethan—therefore _you_ hate Zach."

"That is not the only reason I hate Zach," Kendall protested. "I hate him because he's a lying, cheating, stealing, repulsive, disgusting, revolting _sexist_ piece of slime!"

"Ho, ho, sounds like you're in love with the man," Palmer joked from the far end of the sofa. "_Oooph_!" he added as Opal presented him with an elbow to his midsection. Undeterred, he added, "The word through the grapevine is that Ramsey's bitten off more than he can chew at Cambias. His father is right to be concerned."

Kendall turned her glare onto Palmer. "Ethan isn't Ethan Ramsey anymore, Palmer. He's rightfully Ethan Cambias. Zach Slater stopped having a say in anything that goes on at Cambias Industries a long time ago—around the time he got Ethan's mother pregnant, tore up his own Cambias birth certificate, and blew town."

"You need a scorecard to keep track of the name changes in that family," Palmer sneered.

"Will you look who's talking, _Pete Cooney_." Opal's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Not to take up for Zach Slater, but I must say if we only let people into this town who never changed their names or didn't have a long-lost child or parent rattling around the old family china closet, present company not excluded, Pine Valley would be a ghost town."

"Thank you, Opal," Myrtle said fervently.

"Ethan's doing a good job at Cambias," Kendall defended. "Bianca's happy with the way he's looking out for Miranda's interests."

Her mention of Bianca suddenly reminded the others of the reasons for the gathering, and the formerly married Cortlandts were shamefaced. "Ethan isn't running Cambias as smoothly as I did," Ryan announced in the breach, "but Zach Slater is capable of great violence."

"Well, that's true," Greenlee immediately agreed. "That fight you had with Zach was horrible."

"No, Greenlee, _he_ picked the fight with _me_," Ryan corrected, "and I gave as good as I got, don't forget, but that was only a fistfight. I'm afraid I share Kendall's thinking that we can't rule Slater out in being involved in this, if—"

"Oh, Ryan, will you listen to yourself?" Myrtle scoffed. "Will you all listen to yourselves squabbling? For heaven's sake, we haven't even put the radio or television on to listen for a news bulletin the entire time you've been here. Instead we've all been sitting around gabbing about Zach Slater. Now, Kendall, I know you're scared and worried, honey, we all are, but please don't go borrowing trouble when you already own enough of it."

Her sharp words finally had the affect of changing the subject from the ever controversial Zach Slater. Ryan got up to turn the television on CNN, and Greenlee remembered that she'd wanted to see Miranda. Myrtle suggested that Kendall show her the way, and the two girls tiptoed up the stairs.

Unable to argue in front of the sleeping baby, by unspoken agreement they suspended their dispute over Ethan and Zach, and simply drank in the sublime sight of Miranda in dreamland, her stuffed pink Piglet clutched tightly in her tiny fist.

Gazing pensively at her niece, who in the unkindest twist of fate she could imagine was also Zach Slater's niece, Kendall tried unsuccessfully to blot out the offensive vision of Zach holding Miranda in his arms. How had he even found out where Miranda was? Not that it really mattered, Kendall supposed; Myrtle's boarding house was hardly a top-secret safe house. It just meant she would have to be more vigilant.

_Don't you worry, Miranda! I'll guard you with my life until your mother Bianca comes home…and your grandmother Erica, and your cousin Ethan, and your great-uncle Jack…_if _they came home_.

Kendall heard a muffled sniffle. Greenlee's shoulders were shaking, and Kendall realized she was crying and trying not to show it. Then, oddly enough, Kendall realized there were tears in her own eyes, and a lump forming in her throat. Tapping Greenlee on the arm to get her attention, she motioned her outside. In the hallway outside the closed door to Miranda's room, the girls wordlessly threw their arms around each other and sobbed.

By the time she and Greenlee rejoined the others downstairs, Kendall had herself under better control. Greenlee had Ryan, and she went straight into his arms, reminding Kendall she had only herself to depend on now. Ryan shared her suspicions of Zach, but Greenlee was clearly skeptical—true to her apparent mission on earth to give Kendall a hard time about _everything_—so they canceled each other out. Myrtle was dazzled by Zach's good looks and phony chivalrous manner to see him for what he really was, and Erica's other closest friends the Cortlandts couldn't stop needling each other long enough to take the danger Zach represented seriously.

Even Derek Frye was oblivious, thought Kendall in disgust, as she took a seat again and leaned against the sofa cushions. It was now after midnight. Time was passing, but for those who waited, it might as well have stood still, for they were locked in it. Yet their physical need for sustenance and rest went on. The television droned in the background and Kendall's attention wandered idly to it. _Blah blah blah_…her head lolled back, and she finally dozed, fitfully, and then more deeply.

Hours later, she awoke to a ray of sunlight piercing her eyelids and stiffness in her neck. Initially not recognizing where she was, she sprang to her feet with a startled gasp, then relaxed as the unmistakable sound of Myrtle's voice floated towards her from above at the same time her surroundings resolved into Myrtle's living room.

"Kendall, honey? Are you awake?"

"I am now!" she called back.

"Miranda's up too, all changed and ready for her breakfast. Would you come up here and carry her down to the kitchen for me?"

"I'll be right up, Myrtle!"

Someone had placed a colorful afghan over her as she slept; it was now on the floor and she replaced it. The daily newspaper was lying on the coffee table, the top headline blaring up at her in huge type: _CAMBIAS JET MISSING_. When she saw it, Kendall let out another gasp. But the story accompanying it could provide no more information than she already knew beyond that a search was being mounted by Federal authorities. The same was true of the anchorperson on the early morning news show on the television, reciting the same few facts before blithely going on to read the next news item as if it was of identical consequence.

Kendall ran her fingers through her mussed curls, straightened her wrinkled skirt, and went up to Miranda.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Zach laid his phone beside the laptop on the desk in his home office and glanced at the Rolex Oyster on his wrist. Still not 9:00 a.m., and he'd managed to accumulate a few hours' sleep, jog around the condo complex, shower and dress in casual clothes, consume a pot of black coffee, review the most up-to-date balance sheets from the casino cranked out by his financial office overnight just messengered to him, and hold an unusually early teleconference with Edie and his other top management staff both in Pine Valley and Las Vegas—necessitating the removal of some of the latter from their beds. However, the casinos' internal staff communication system had already spread the news about the missing jet and its connection to Zach to anyone who didn't turn on the news, so those sleepers were few.

Regardless of the time zone, almost everyone under Zach's command was already in place at his or her desk when Edie rounded them up. All handpicked and as loyal to him as they were unfailingly professional, Zach informed them he was counting on them to keep the Seasons East and West running like well-oiled machinery while the current situation might call for him to be temporarily scarce. He was confident as well that his team would be discreet with any member of the press or public who cared to make an issue of it. Among her other duties Edie was his public spokeswoman, and would always know where to reach him in the case of any real emergency.

At that moment Zach knew only he didn't plan to appear at the Seasons East that particular day. The situation was obviously fluid, so it was necessary to treat it as an indefinite one requiring adjustment on everyone's part as necessity arose, but he expected them to carry on as normal. The employees to whom he spoke so matter-of-factly, to the point they hesitated to even refer to the reason underlying his absence, would have been surprised to know how utterly out of control the boss really felt.

Having only ever experienced Zach's uncompromising surface, they instinctively accepted it as characterizing the entire man, because he never revealed any other aspect of himself.

His employees never knew that as Zach almost grimly ran his empire, there were moments he retired to his imposing office, opened the teak wall unit behind his teak desk, and took out and brooded over a small, amateurish painting, depicting an adobe dwelling such as he'd once shared with his lost love Maria in the desert. They never knew that hidden in the expensive attaché case accompanying him everywhere like a shield was a file folder containing photographs of himself and his brother Michael as boys, and clippings about Michael's murder, whose perusal brought unshed tears to his eyes.

It would never have occurred to the dedicated staff members who carried out his orders and catered to his customers that as Zach made his rounds at all hours through the various gaming, recreation, show, and food service areas of his gaming palaces, he often felt alien from the humanity surrounding him. Those nominally closest to him were entirely unaware that Zach's goals weren't necessarily material ones: The heavy demands of material success provided him with both a reason and an excuse to remain aloof from intimate personal relationships that he'd learned inevitably ended in disaster.

Too bad the hard-driving businessman's system had one tiny, fatal flaw: It was incompatible with the blazing humanity buried deep but undeniably within him. Buried so deep that only the faintest glow was visible to most casual observers. So undeniably that the deeper he buried it, the more violently it exacted its revenge when it inevitably erupted. If he'd been able to stay aloof the night he'd picked up Maureen (nee Maria) hitchhiking in the desert, aloof from the desire to confront the self-righteous accomplices to Michael's murder…aloof from the need to protect Ethan, the grown son who hated him just as much as he'd hated his father…he probably wouldn't still be trying to clear sufficient airspace to breathe beneath the emotional fallout he seemed unable to keep piling on himself.

After leaving Myrtle's last night, Zach seriously considered returning to Las Vegas. It wouldn't be the first time he'd considered it. Because of his connection to Michael, he would always be an outsider here. It was one thing to be an outsider by choice…definitely quite another to be ostracized, mostly by those who were certainly no better than he. Zach could recite from memory Bianca's letter damning him, banishing him from Miranda's life because he'd refused, for Ethan's own good, to claim him as his son. If Erica hadn't stopped Zach for what amounted to her own purposes, he'd have been gone by now. But could he have stayed gone?

No…perhaps it was too late for him and Ethan to establish any sort of relationship—Zach feared it was, regardless of Ethan's fate—but there was still Miranda, whose miraculous survival everyone had been unaware until recently. Her conception had been an ugly thing but she was Michael's daughter for all that, all that Zach had left of his brother. How could he be content to remain a distant, barely tolerated presence in her life? Who else would ever explain to Miranda that Michael hadn't always been a monster?

Who else could thwart Kendall's misguided attempts to paint Miranda's blameless uncle as the killer of her mother, grandmother, great-uncle, and cousin?

Zach called up another file on his laptop. He wanted to refresh his memory as to the particulars of Ms. Kendall Hart's history, in case anything had slipped his memory during the months since he'd last read it. That history had been part of a larger investigation incidental to her mother Erica's dropping into his lap, or rather into his casino, in Las Vegas the prior year, so that he would have some idea of what and whom he was dealing with.

The report on Kendall opened on the screen. Zach scanned it quickly, glad he'd taken the precaution to have it drawn up then so that it was readily available now, but unable to find anything useful as a quid pro quo. Living in the limelight's glare surrounding her mother, Kendall's long reign of terror in Pine Valley had been thoroughly publicly documented. Everything already appeared to be out on the table; at any rate, no convenient bargaining chips lurked within the version of Kendall's past he had access to.

The report did remind Zach of one thing—as fragile as she appeared, Kendall was a tenacious fighter. It was a quality he could have admired, if only she wasn't always so insistent on opposing _him_. _How did a tigress like you ever get so involved with my vain, shallow, grasping son_, Zach caught himself musing. Based on the report, Kendall was a magnet for such men, including his brother. He supposed she was, on the surface, quite a prize—brilliantly connected, incredibly lovely, highly intelligent if not actually _smart_—and most significantly, not at all discriminating.

_Is that a weakness I could exploit_? But Zach dismissed the thought in the same instant it occurred to him. _No. That would be too obvious_. Besides, his hands were tied by another consideration. Kendall was Miranda's aunt. Somehow he had to neutralize her while leaving her whole.

Beside him, the phone rang, the Caller ID identifying Edie's private line at the casino. "Boss? Thought you should know, if you didn't already, you were right not to come in. The press is surrounding the place. I gave them your statement, that you were praying for everyone's safe return and had no other comment at this time, but they're asking if you were planning to fly out to Colorado to join the search."

"Add to my statement that searching is best left to the experts and my place is here, holding the fort down, waiting and praying together with the other family members."

"Got it." Edie paused. "Do you really want me to say that, boss?"

Zach gave a short laugh. "Yes. Anything else for me, Edie?"

"No…that's it for now."

"Good. Keep me posted. I hear someone at my door now. I'll let you know if it's anything."

The condominium community in which Zach lived had a gated entrance, so he wasn't concerned about being besieged by reporters on his own doorstep. On the other hand, that limited the options for unannounced visitors to fellow residents or the law, and he doubted this visitor was Kendall. With some well-masked trepidation, Zach went to the door and found Derek Frye waiting for him.

Derek's shake of the head immediately indicated he had received no additional word, but he added, "For what it's worth, I'm just checking in. Man, I almost didn't make it through—I'm afraid they're circling like sharks out there."

"The news media? So I've heard."

"You might want to stay holed up here for awhile," Derek advised, "or wait until Kendall comes home and distracts them—"

"Kendall?" Zach repeated sharply, mentally berating himself for failing to have made it his business already to discover her current whereabouts, probably shooting her mouth off wherever that was. "Do you know where she is?"

"She spent the night at Myrtle's." Derek let out a low whistle. "She figured out who told you who had Miranda, called me up first thing this morning, and tried to rip me a new one."

"But didn't succeed?"

"Nah. I wouldn't say her bark is worse than her bite, but remember, I've had plenty experience building up immunity. You handled her pretty well last night yourself, but let me caution you, Zach, she's still on the rampage. According to her you're Public Enemy Number Uno."

Zach shrugged with an unconcern he didn't feel. "That was the number assigned to me by all the good citizens of Pine Valley."

"A suggestion, if I may: Things are already bad enough, and if you don't want this to turn into an even bigger media circus, you may want to do what I mentioned last night and seriously threaten Kendall with a slander suit if she doesn't cease and desist with the accusations."

"And you think that would be effective, Derek?"

"Well…no," the police chief admitted.

"I didn't think so."

"I'll revise my advice then, Zach—maybe you should take the plunge and get out there and head her off before Kendall meets up with that pack of reporters waiting to pounce and starts giving statements."

A thoughtful look came over Zach's face. "That's what I hire security people for."

"Even you can't countermand the First Amendment, Zach," Derek warned. "Unfortunately, those sharks—and they make my life miserable, too—have a right to be out there."

Zach's eyebrows raised." It's not the press' freedom of speech that particularly interests me. It's Kendall's."

Stepping back, Derek shook his head. "I didn't hear that, nope, didn't hear it." Suddenly, his pager beeped, and he checked the number. "Another duty calls. As always, Zach, I'll be in touch."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

After Miranda was changed, bathed, clothed and fed, a more complicated and sometimes exasperating process than she had expected, even with Myrtle's help, Kendall exhaled a long drawn-out sigh of relief. Miranda now sat taking a break in her high chair, devoting her full attention to a colorful plastic musical toy, while Kendall was ready for a nap. "Binks, how do you do it?" she wondered out loud. "I really don't think I'm cut out for this."

Rinsing dishes at the sink, Myrtle chuckled. "Kendall, honey, nobody is born knowing how to take care of a baby. It takes practice, patience, and—hold still, you've got a dab of cereal stuck to your cheek."

"Yeah, well, look at the rest of me." Kendall still wore the clothes she'd slept on the sofa in, and her hair resembled a giant bird's nest. "Now I know why people hire nannies."

"Go on up and take a shower while you have the chance, honey. And then take a nap. I'll bet you didn't sleep a wink last night."

Kendall hesitated. She'd originally planned to do just that. She knew that she and Miranda were both welcome to make themselves at home at Myrtle's indefinitely, while Myrtle mothered them both. Not only did Myrtle's presence and expertise solved a multitude of problems where Miranda was concerned…she was a voice of calm and reason during this crisis, a voice that Kendall sorely needed to keep from going off the deep end. The temptation to surrender herself to Myrtle's solicitude was almost overwhelming.

But…but. As well as the solution, that was the problem. This was _Myrtle's_ home. If she and Myrtle didn't see eye-to-eye on something, it was Myrtle's will that must prevail. And there were no "ifs" about where their gazes met on the issue of Zach Slater. There was no reasoning with Myrtle on that score—she was completely bamboozled by the man. If he came sauntering up the walk right now—and Kendall was surprised he hadn't—Myrtle would usher him in, sit him down at the kitchen table, right beside Miranda's high chair, ply him with the coffee and muffins Kendall had been unable to choke down, and probably ask him if he wanted to take the baby out for a stroll.

That made it imperative to remove Miranda's from Myrtle's as soon as possible. At her own condo, she could both safeguard Miranda from Zach's intrusions, and monitor his comings and goings from her front window, while she waited for news. After her experience with that obstinate blabbermouth Derek Frye, whose idea of law enforcement clearly didn't extend to protecting innocent children, Kendall had no illusions that she could successfully keep Miranda's location a secret from Zach with her present limited resources. So she might as well hide the baby in plain sight. That way she could keep an eye on _both_ of them.

"You know what, Myrtle?" Kendall replied too casually. "You've been wonderful, and please don't think I haven't loved every second of it, but I think I'll go home instead. I've got some things I need to do, and—and I'll take Miranda with me for the time being so you can have a break."

Myrtle was aghast at the prospect. "You're not thinking of leaving and taking that child away with you?"

"Just for awhile," Kendall tried to placate Myrtle, "I need to talk to Greenlee and find out what's going on at Fusion at least, and I don't want to tie up your phone, and besides, you're right, I need to practice with Miranda. I can't do that here with you helping take care of her, because it's too easy just to let you take over. It'll be fun, and I think Miranda needs some alone time with her Auntie Kendall, don't you, Miranda?"

Intent in her play, cooing to herself, Miranda ignored the question, but Myrtle was less reticent. "I've seen too many con games in my time not to know you're up to something, Kendall Hart."

"I'm not, Myrtle, truly!" _I'm just trying to spare your feelings, that's all. You have a soft spot for a lying, conniving, rotten killer, and I'm just not rubbing your nose in it_. "I just want to go home with Miranda. I'll call you when I get home, and I'll call you throughout the day whether we hear anything or not to let you know we're all right, and if I have any problems or questions about stopping her from crying or changing diapers, I'll most _definitely_ call you!"

"You're just like your mother." Myrtle shook her head in resignation. "You have an answer for everything. All right, honey, go on with you. I know I can't expect you to stay here and humor an old woman all day. You go get your things, and I'll get Miranda's things together and pack up her diaper bag. But if anything happens, anything at all, you let me know."

Kendall threw her arms around Myrtle's small form. "Myrtle, don't worry, we'll be fine. I already have you on speed dial."

A short time later, Kendall was on her way home with Miranda in the back seat, after a frustrating but ultimately successful battle with the combination stroller/car seat Bianca had left at Myrtles. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so positively unreal…never before had she had reason to drive anywhere with Miranda alone in the car, never before had she ever even babysat Miranda either for long or completely independently.

She choked back a sob as she recalled Ethan helping her the last time she'd watched Miranda briefly at Bianca's apartment. _Ethan! Where are you?_ He'd had such a gleam in his eye about this trip. And she'd been so thrilled that he was working on the joint venture with Erica and Bianca, a project that promised to benefit both Cambias Industries and Erica's fledgling New Beginnings, and hopefully help Erica see that Ethan really was a good guy at heart, who played fair in business, who wasn't letting his newfound power go to his head after all, even though….

From behind her, Miranda suddenly let out such yowl that Kendall bit down hard on the lip she was already gnawing at. "Don't cry, sweetie, we're almost home," she tried to soothe the baby. Miranda only kept howling louder over Kendall's increasingly frantic entreaties, making Kendall fell like doing the same thing. Especially once she realized they were driving right past the deserted construction site for the Miranda Montgomery Center for Women and Children.

The baby's timing was uncannily perfect. "As soon as he comes home your big cousin Ethan's going to start the work right back up on your center," Kendall told her brightly, "yes, he is! Ethan won't let us down. He knows how much it means to you—to _us_!"

_But does he? And will he?_ Somehow having the center's namesake right there with her made Kendall less able to rationalize Ethan's recent actions toward it—his hard-hearted decision to delay construction on the nonprofit project in favor of speeding construction on a commercial building that would help swell Cambias coffers—in spite of her protests. Was she really that easy to fob off?

_My god, what are you thinking? This is _not_ the time to doubt Ethan!_ Kendall rounded on herself. He was out there somewhere, he had to be…maybe the only thing that was keeping him alive was knowing that she was here waiting for him to come home…believing in him no matter what, believing he was protecting Bianca and Erica, even though he wasn't respecting the center they'd founded…. _Goddamn it! Stop this!_

It was as if a dam had burst in her mind, the mental dam already been under so much strain that it could now hold no more, collapsing under the weight of her misgivings and fears. With Miranda wailing in the background, echoing her turmoil, it took every ounce of Kendall's concentration to complete the short distance remaining to the complex where she lived. From force of habit, her gaze strayed to the windshield visor pocket overhead to make sure her coded keycard was ready to grab to open the residents' private parking area gate. When she looked ahead again, she was surprised to see a crowd of people milling around the normally quiet and secluded complex entrance come into view—until the news vans parked farther up the street identified their purpose.

They weren't an unfamiliar sight to Kendall. "Oh, _shit_," she breathed in consternation, forgetting to apologize to Miranda as she pulled over and braked the car to a stop. There didn't appear to be any way they were going to reach home without running the press gauntlet, unless her BMW M5 could sprout wings and propellers.

Kendall couldn't believe she'd been oblivious until now to the likelihood. It wouldn't have been quite so disconcerting, if Miranda weren't ensconced in the back seat. Kendall herself was only too accustomed to fending off reporters, and this occasion was rather a novel one—for a change, they weren't after her for anything _she'd_ done. Still, it was a dicey situation; her thoughts were nowhere near coherent enough to come up with any kind of statement, and they'd be aiming cameras every which way. Bianca was always obsessed with Miranda's privacy…. Worst of all, the media tide was beginning to break their way: They'd spotted Kendall, and the hue and cry was on.

Kendall sat immobilized, knowing she should throw the transmission back into drive…or should it be reverse…whatever it took to end this standoff and peel enough rubber to get Miranda and herself out of there before they were engulfed. Somehow, though, her limbs seemed made of rubber. "Shit," she said again. "I'm sorry, Miranda. Get ready for your first press conference. At least _you're_ not in the same clothes _you _slept in."

But something appeared to be halting the momentum of the press wave aiming toward her, halting it and breaking it up. Reporters began to scatter haphazardly. Kendall could hear shouts and cries coming from them. Soon she could make out way. A big, black, obscenely expensive Range Rover had just exited through the gate from the parking area Kendall was eager to enter. Taking no notice whatsoever of the flesh and blood bodies blocking its path, its heavy steel bulk plowed arrogantly ahead, forcing them out of its way or else.

"Son of a bitch," Kendall said in unwilling admiration under her breath, gunning her engine.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Adjusting his review mirror, Zach watched Kendall's car quickly dart through the opening he'd so precipitately cleared, thanks to his directing Frank, his deputy security chief, to patrol the grounds and alert him of Kendall's approach. While the hapless and outraged reporters tried to regroup, he executed a swift three-point turn, following the BMW down the driveway before the gate came down inches from the rear of his Range Rover. Sliding it smoothly into the parking space beside Kendall's, Zach was out of the driver's seat before Kendall even turned her engine off. As he approached her side of the car, he saw why it was still running: Kendall sat there staring straight ahead, evidently in a daze.

Even surrounded by the armor of her car, she looked so shell-shocked he momentarily wondered, with a genuine concern he ordinarily denied Kendall, _Is she all right_? But the moment didn't allow for leisurely dissecting—had anything more alarming than her encountering the press occurred, something he needed to know immediately?

Zach tried yanking her door open, but it was locked. Then he also saw, to his initial great pleasure, that Miranda was in the back seat, excitedly gesturing toward him. Zach's heart performed its familiar cartwheel, but he forced himself to ignore it and return his gaze to Kendall, upon whom it now focused. _What the devil is she doing carting Miranda around as part of her sideshow_? Zach banged on the driver's side window.

Whatever mental glitch had short-circuited Kendall's normal reflexes finally seemed to self-correct. "I hear you—don't break the window!" she called, throwing open her door so vigorously that Zach perceived it was meant as an extension of her knee. So when he was nonplussed when she said almost confusedly, "My hand slipped. I—I didn't mean to clobber you."

Narrowed hazel eyes bore disbelievingly into wide blue ones. "No? Since when?" Zach asked skeptically.

"Well…since you rescued me from that pack of reporters." Kendall still seemed confused. "I never expected you to do anything like that."

_Rescue you?_ Zach wanted to mock her. _The hell I _rescued_ you. I was merely performing media damage control. Although if you prefer to think otherwise, far be it from me to enlighten you._ Not because doing so would erase that foreign grateful expression from her face, he assured himself, but because it would tip his hand and besides, her misconception could be more useful to him if he played along—especially with Miranda as part of the reward for good behavior.

Noncommittally, Zach stated, "Kendall, I'm sure we're agreed that the press are vultures. Regardless of your and my opinions of each other, I don't particularly care to have them take advantage of you." Then he sweetened the statement with the faintest expression of a sympathetic smile.

Again, Kendall seemed flustered. "I wouldn't have wanted to end up on the front page of any newspaper looking like this, and not with Miranda—oh, Miranda!" Anxiously, Kendall released the door to the back seat and freed the impatient Miranda from her restraints, gathering her into her arms.

"She seems fine," Zach commented, thinking, _no thanks to you_, and stifling the urge to take one of the baby's flailing hands in his and encourage her tiny fingers to curl around one of his long ones. "Is there some reason you didn't leave her at Myrtle's?"

Kendall's face slowly shuttered. "Is there some reason I should have?" she asked haughtily.

"Miranda wouldn't have run the risk of being exposed to the media if you hadn't removed her from Myrtle's," he pointed out in a futile attempt at a reasonable tone. And with that, he realized he _had_ tipped his hand.

"Boy, for a minute there you had me going there, Zach," Kendall replied. "I mean, I admit was kind of thrown off by those reporters and I was really stunned _you_ of all people tried to help me, but now you're showing your true colors. True, Miranda wouldn't be exposed to the media at Myrtle's, but she'd have been exposed to _you_, and that's why I quote unquote removed her. Now if you'll _excuse_ us, I have to get the rest of our things out of the car."

"Wait."

"_What_?"

Zach paused. The power struggle came so naturally to them that it had actually slipped his mind they were still in the parking area, with Kendall holding on to Miranda out in the open. The private gate at one end of their complex and the guarded entrance at the other, plus the perimeter fence around the whole, afforded some physical protection, but anyone with a telephoto lens—Zach could see photographs of them being splashed across the front page of _The Intruder_, and he didn't want her to blame that on him, too. "No, never mind. Go ahead. I'll follow behind and make sure no one accosts you and Miranda, for the second time today," he reminded her with technical if not moral accuracy.

"Kendall? _Kendall_!" Greenlee was waving both arms and jumping up and down on the other side of the parking gate opposite them. "What are you, deaf, or is Zach really so much more fascinating than you ever let on? Come on, let me in—I've been looking all over for you! Please say the magic words and do the open sesame before these reporters devour me!"

"Get going. I'll let Greenlee in," Zach said, reaching into Kendall's car and grabbing the key card she'd left on the dashboard before she could protest. Sorely as he would have liked to take off, leaving Kendall standing there awkwardly juggling the baby on her unaccustomed hip and Greenlee screeching, he couldn't do it because it was Miranda whom Kendall was clasping like a talisman. And he didn't really have anything against Greenlee Lavery.

"But our things are in the car—"

"We'll get them. We'll argue all you want later. _Just get Miranda out of here_."

Finally she obeyed, and Zach went to rescue Greenlee. Since less time was required to reach over the closed gate, place his hands around Greenlee's waist, lift her petite form up and over the fence and then set her back down on his side than waiting for the gate to open mechanically, that was exactly what Zach did.

"Thanks!" was her unperturbed reply. "Maybe you can carry me out the same way too. It beats walking."

"My pleasure. But why are you here? Have you heard anything?" Zach couldn't keep the anxiety from his voice.

"No…no, Zach, I haven't heard anything, but—but Ryan's at the station and he'll call me on my cell as soon as anything comes in, if it does, so I just went to Fusion just now to try to keep my mind occupied since we have this big new campaign starting and I thought it might help, but Kendall wasn't there and nobody had heard from her and so I got worried about her," Greenlee finished without inhaling.

"More worried for her than yourself?" Zach asked interestedly, retrieving Miranda's diaper bag and whatever else was loose in Kendall's BMW, before locking it.

"Well…yeah." Greenlee looked thoughtful. "I mean I know she's very upset about Erica and Bianca and…and everybody, and I—I am too, but…but you should have heard her trashing y…." Her voice trailed off.

"Trashing me, Greenlee?" he probed.

"It wasn't pretty."

"I've already heard it. First she said it to my face and she said it to Derek in front of my face."

"That sounds like Kendall. God, I hate it when she gets like this."

"Why do you care what she says about me?"

"I'm not sure. I guess I don't think you're that bad. Maybe because David Hayward was my brother-in-law and my first mother-in-law was a drug lord. I guess that has a way of putting things into perspective. And I don't like…I don't like Ethan. Sorry, I know he's your son and all that, but I'm just being honest. I know Ethan doesn't like you, so that's another argument in your favor. I guess that's another reason I don't think you're that bad."

"I'm flattered."

Greenlee seemed to take Zach literally. "Oh, don't be. I always say what I think. That's one of the things Ryan loves about me."

By now they'd arrived in the courtyard between Zach's condo and Kendall's. Kendall opened her door warmly to Greenlee and scowled at Zach standing beside her, even though Miranda's diaper bag, her own overnight bag, and two sacks of baby supplies she'd taken from Myrtle's hung from his arms and hands.

"Oh, let him in, Kendall. His hands are full, he can't do anything to you, and if he tries, I'll protect you," Greenlee said in her breezy way, motioning Zach to follow her in, which he did, returning Kendall's scowl in full measure.

"Where you like these to go, Kendall?" he asked with studied politeness.

"I don't want you coming in, Zach. Leave them right there by the door and then take a hike."

"Really, Kendall, the man just did you a favor by carrying in your stuff."

"Stay out of this, Greenlee—it's none of your business," Kendall informed Greenlee curtly..

The bags and sacks were delivered to the floor with a light touch that Kendall owed thanks to both Greenlee and Miranda for. Otherwise they'd have been dropped from the considerable height of his waist regardless of the damage. "I'd like to see my niece before I go…and make sure she's all right," Zach said tightly.

"Miranda's in the bedroom, and she's perfect. I'll take a photo and mail it to you. Thank you for bringing in our things and now I'd appreciate not having to ask you to leave again."

Zach's face assumed its darkest, most thunderous mien, and his deep voice its lowest register, the one that made his employees pray for a quick death and his suppliers bandage their blistered ears and replace their melted phone receivers. But his anger was more self-directed than directed at Kendall, who was only being true to form. He must have taken leave of his wits earlier to ever imagine that she possessed even one iota of vulnerability, or that she was the slightest bit capable of showing or expressing gratitude.

"I'll leave the premises, but don't declare victory yet, Kendall. You don't have even temporary custody of Miranda. I stand in the same relation to her that you do."

"Oh, I'm scared. Miranda hardly knows you, Zach, and if you're talking about her father being equal to her mother, let's _not_ go there."

"Touché," Zach conceded reluctantly. "But Bianca granted me access to Miranda. You have no legal standing to override that decision."

"That's because Bianca is just like Myrtle. A pushover for a husky voice and those big puppy-dog eyes you're so good at making—"

"Really?" Zach seemed to grow a foot taller and proportionately more menacing. "I didn't think you'd noticed."

"Greenlee, why did you have to let him help you?"

"Help _me_? Kendall, Zach was helping _you_."

"No problem, ladies. I'm gone. Just remember what I said, Kendall. We're not finished."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

"Well! That is certainly interesting," Greenlee commented, peeking out Kendall's expansive front window at Zach's retreating back. "So tell me, Kendall, why do you fritter all your talents away on junior when senior is such a hunk and could probably teach you a thing or two besides?"

"Shut up, Greenlee, and lay off. You sound just like Zach. Now let me go get Miranda before she rolls off the bed."

"_What_? Zach's made a play for you? You never told me! Spill!" Greenlee followed Kendall into the bedroom.

"There was nothing to tell, Greenlee. Zach was just insulting me, that's all. It was when he was trying to split Ethan and me up so Ethan would leave town and not find out he was a Cambias. C'mon, Miranda, that's the way…_oops_." Kendall's nose wrinkled in distaste.

"You don't need to tell me what that means. Miranda's through with her breakfast."

"Aren't you the ace detective. Will you please make yourself useful and bring the diaper bag in here?"

"Tell me the rest of the story first."

Kendall rolled her eyes. "There's nothing to tell. Zach told me the next time I wanted a _real_ man to give him a call. Just one of the many reasons he's a disgusting pig."

Greenlee marched over to the bed and held out her arms. "Like father like son? Here, give me the baby. You get the Pampers. I need to practice my technique."

"Your technique? What are you talking about? You're not—"

"No. Not yet. Now hand her over."

"Fine. Here." Gingerly placing Miranda in Greenlee's arms, Kendall returned with the diaper bag, whose flap opened up into a makeshift changing pad. Somehow, between the two of them but with Greenlee doing the majority of the work, they got Miranda changed into a fresh diaper and disposed of the used one. When they were finished and Miranda was gurgling happily, they took her back in the living room and sat her on the sofa.

"You're not really equipped for baby visitors, are you Kendall?" Greenlee asked. "No crib, no playpen, no changing table, no highchair. No food, I'll bet, except whatever you filched from Myrtle's."

"What are you, the baby expert all of a sudden?" Kendall asked sullenly. But Greenlee was right, and Kendall was beginning to realize it—which was not improving her disposition. Miranda's impulsive removal from Myrtle's was beginning to seem more and more like a harebrained idea.

"Didn't you notice the expert way I handled that diaper change? Ryan and I are trying to get pregnant, you know. We're even been taking childcare classes, so we'll be ready. We've run into some problems, but we're not letting that stop us."

"Please. Too much information, Greenlee."

"At least one of us has a maternal instinct, Kendall."

"Even a barracuda has a maternal instinct, Greenlee."

"Let's not start this again. Look, it's just a good thing I came by when I did—I love seeing my little cousin and she's happy to see me again too, aren't you, Miranda, especially after the way Auntie Kendall hauls you around? If Auntie Kendall gets tired of watching _Adventures In Babysitting_ on Pay Per View, Cousin Greenlee would love to take over."

Glumly, Kendall said, "Hopefully, she won't be stuck with either Cousin Greenlee or Auntie Kendall for long because Auntie Kendall is about to wrap a Pampers around Cousin Greenlee's neck and I don't think Miranda has any to spare."

"That's why we keep bickering, isn't it, Kendall? Because it's better than crying?"

"We're bickering because we always bicker, and I'm not going to cry," Kendall vowed. "Because Zach _expects_ me to be weak. He thinks I'm just going to accept that—that the hand of God just swooped down and grabbed that plane out of the air, or that the mountaintop opened and swallowed it whole, but I'm not! That's why he thinks he's going to get away with it, but he's so wrong—"

"Whoa, Kendall…_whoa_," Greenlee cut her off. "Don't start that again, please—it makes you sound obsessed and paranoid, and it makes it sound like there's no hope! Don't you dare destroy my hope," she added fiercely.

"Don't pin this on me, Greenlee. Zach is the one who's done that, and your precious Ryan thinks he could have done it. I'm not the only one."

"Ryan thinks Zach _could_ have done it but that's not the same thing as thinking he _did_ do it. You have to ask yourself why Zach would want to harm anyone on the plane, especially when he either loves Bianca or he sure fooled Myrtle into thinking he did, and Ethan is his own son…oh, that's right, Ethan, now I get it, this is a rerun of the argument we had last night. Ethan's all good, therefore Zach's all bad. I'm sorry, Kendall, but I think I should take Miranda home with me and Ryan."

"_What_?" Kendall demanded. "I know I'm going to be sorry I asked this, but how did you get from Point A to Point B on that one?"

"Miranda belongs to all of us, not just you, Kendall, and you're the one taking a detour to la-la-land, not me. Look at you, you're a mess—you slept in your clothes, didn't you? Let's just hope you don't make the front page of the _Pine Valley Bulletin_ looking like that tomorrow—and you took Miranda from Myrtle's, where she was perfectly comfortable, and brought her here without having a thing ready yet. Does any of that sound rational to you?"

Kendall looked down defensively at her rumpled clothes, which looked even more rumpled than they had before she'd left Myrtle's…but maybe that was because Greenlee had such a way of ruffling her feathers, feathers that had already been well ruffled by Zach. "I wasn't expecting to hit the headlines and I simply wanted to get Miranda away from Myrtle's before Zach showed up. Is that all right with you, Greenlee?"

Suddenly Greenlee's cell phone rang, and everybody jumped. Her saucer-like eyes even rounder than usual, she answered it in a whisper. "Ryan?"

Kendall, too, held her breath. Every atom in her body seemed to hold its breath, the whole world seemed to stop rotating on its axis, in the endless second or two it took for Greenlee to listen to what Ryan was saying, then mouth the word, "Nothing," and resume her conversation, turning her back in an indication the rest of it was private.

As the horrible tension that had so abruptly filled her body drained from it again, Kendall felt wiped out in both body and spirit. To make matters worse, the noise from the ringing phone made Miranda start crying again, or maybe the baby was just sensitive to the edgy atmosphere between herself and Greenlee, which they couldn't seem to control even on a good day, or maybe Miranda was just missing her mother as ferociously as Kendall was…maybe, or probably, all three. Whatever it was, though, was irrelevant, as Kendall couldn't seem to pacify Miranda.

Sitting beside her niece, Kendall tried to divert her with a combination of funny faces, clicking noises, and peek-a-boo games, but Miranda refused to be consoled. The very faint winds still remaining in Kendall's drooping sails completed their exodus, leaving her utterly deflated. "You and me both, Miranda," she mumbled wearily to the crying baby, "you and me both."

"Well, the two of you certainly both need a time out," Greenlee announced.

Sagging against the sofa cushions, Kendall was sure, given the vicissitudes of their relationship, there must have been another time—although she couldn't for the life of her recall when—she had so much wanted to throttle Mrs. Lavery. If the devil had come prancing through the wall at that moment, Kendall would not have hesitated to sell her soul right then and there for nothing more than the energy to do it. But since he was not so obliging and she lacked the energy on her own to even pick up and throw a sofa pillow at the criminally sprightly Greenlee, Kendall had to be satisfied with staring daggers at her.

"No, Greenlee, you're the one who needs a time out, _lots_ of time out of _here_, before I lose what sanity I still have left. Go back to Fusion or go screw yourself, I don't care, just get out and leave me alone, _now_."

"Sorry, no can do, not yet anyway. I have to wait until Ryan comes over to pick me up. He doesn't want to take a chance on the press hounding me again. So pick up the phone and tell the guard at the main entrance to put Ryan on your visitor list so he can come through that way and we don't run into any of the reporters, if they're still out there."

Kendall groaned, but complied. Whatever it took to get rid of Greenlee. While she made the call, Greenlee look over entertaining Miranda, and the baby not only stopped crying, she was laughing at Greenlee's antics.

"See?" Greenlee looked up triumphantly. "I told you I know babies. Let me take her home with us, Kendall, at least until you get yourself sorted out. I mean, where were you planning to stash Miranda while you take a shower, for instance, or while you're asleep? She's mobile now. You'll have to watch her every second until you get baby-proofed."

"Like you are?"

Puffing out her chest like a little wren, Greenlee said proudly, "We've already furnished our nursery. Have to be prepared."

"Really. Do you have a pink nursery _and_ a blue nursery, or is it just half pink and half blue, in case you end up having a hermaphrodite?"

"Funny, Kendall. Neither—it's yellow, green, and white. All top-of-the-line Bellini furniture and designer bedding. Just look at Miranda perking up! You'd like that, wouldn't you, baby? You'll be all safe and sound with me and Ryan until Auntie Kendall gets her act together, at which point you'll be eighteen. And tell Auntie Kendall that bad man Zach Slater—okay, I guess he's your Uncle Zach, but let's face it, your family tree has some shady branches—would be miles away, too. After all, poor Auntie Kendall can't even go potty all by herself right now without worrying that Mr. Slater might break in and grab you while she's, er, occupied."

Kendall groaned again. "I hate you, Greenlee." Just one more thing she'd neglected to consider when bringing Miranda here from Myrtle's to hide her in plain sight here in her condo, twenty feet away from Zach's: The necessity to watch her every single second. "Her car seat converts to a stroller. I'll just go out and get it from the car and strap her in that when I need to, and take her in the bathroom with me."

Greenlee kept trying to whittle away at her resolve. "Ohhh, hear that, Miranda? You'll love that, won't you? I know I would."

Had Ryan not arrived then, Greenlee might have been sporting some sores herself, Kendall's exhaustion notwithstanding. But if she and Greenlee were usually more evenly matched, she had never been any match for Ryan's will, which in this matter was perfectly aligned with his wife's, and put the final nail in the coffin of her resistance to Greenlee's plan…at least for now.

"Kendall, we know how much you love Miranda and this isn't about depriving you of seeing her. Greenlee's plan to keep her at our place just makes more sense. Take a look around your place—it's a regular baby hazard zone," Ryan pronounced in his patronizing way.

"Yeah, well, I think you're both exaggerating as usual. But…maybe you do have a point," Kendall said unenthusiastically.

"And promise Kendall we won't invite Zach Slater over for tea, Ryan," Greenlee piped up, at the strategic moment.

"Kendall, I'll give you my word on that. Zach Slater won't be allowed to come within a mile of our apartment," he nodded. "Everyone in the security office already has his picture, with a big red circle and slash over it to make sure they get the message, just on principle."

Kendall caved. The Laverys left her condo, proudly bearing a perfectly willing Miranda with them, as a very dejected and downcast Kendall watched from the window and waved good-bye to her innocently traitorous niece.

Unsure what to do next, Kendall aimed the remote at her television and scrolled through the channels until she found CNN. The time was not quite noon, not even twelve hours since her family had gone missing, but the emptiness waiting to move in on her once she was alone again seemed to have lasted forever. But she had to fill in the time…had to be prepared, had to keep up appearances, had to keep eating and sleeping, getting up in the morning and showering and…_showering_. She glanced at the television; a commercial break was on.

_I'll watch the noon news, _she decided slowly._ Then I'll get ready to go to Greenlee and Ryan's and see for myself how Miranda is doing over there. Then I'll stop by Fusion_. _But first I'll fix something to eat while I'm watching the news._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

It took only a few hours of hanging around his condo, flipping between cable news stations and juggling telephone calls to and from Edie, Derek Frye and—because he was never content to leave anything to chance, the National Transportation Safety Board investigator-in-charge at the command center set up in Montrose—for Zach to come down with a raging case of impatience. He was used to being in charge; to making things happen—he did not excel at waiting. His clash with Kendall had served to briefly break up the nerve-wracking monotony of waiting, but then so would beating one's head against a brick wall have done.

Hearing voices outside, he got up from watching the television to glance out his front window. Greenlee was leaving Kendall's condo with her charmingly Neanderthal-ishhusband and, much to Zach's surprise, they had little Miranda in tow. He would have paid good money for the secret of how they'd managed to pry Miranda away from Kendall…. _Well, well, well…chalk one up to you, little Greenlee_, he thought dryly. Perhaps he was reading too much into it, but even through the barrier of the window glass Zach could sense the couple's proprietary manner toward his niece. _And Kendall believes _I'm_ the snake in the grass._

While he was up, he poured himself two fingers of the fine Scotch Derek had turned down and knocked most of it back in one gulp. The noon news was beginning, but when it led off with a report about a military helicopter in the Middle East being shot down by insurgents, Zach winced and turned it off.

Just as he hit the remote button, a blood-curdling scream, followed by a second, came from the direction of Kendall's condo. The remote hit the floor as did the tumbler of whiskey in his other hand, the remainder of the amber liquid splashing over his expensive Italian loafer and soaking into the off-white carpet. Acting purely on instinct, Zach was out the door almost before they hit, his adrenaline flowing, his stifled energy expanding in the welcome release of the few long strides required to cross the courtyard and burst through Kendall's door.

Kendall was in a heap across the floor, her slim form leaning against her kitchen counter, hugging herself and moaning pitifully. She was alone in the room; the floor around her was free of spilled blood or other liquid, shards of broken glass, or sharp implement. Had she just received some bad news? No, the television was on the same channel he'd been watching, now showing of political rally footage. Telephone call? He grabbed up her wireless phone and displayed the number of the most recent incoming call…none for the past hour.

So what accounted for Kendall's dramatic performance? But wait, this was Kendall. Since when did her dramatics need a cause? Maybe she'd seen a mouse or a cockroach. He began to repent of his own impulsive response and wish he could sneak back out undetected, but he seemed to be in for it now. Cursing himself for being such a rash fool as to rush into this, Zach slowly approached Kendall and crouched before her. She looked at him rather blankly, but at least she looked at him.

"Kendall?" he asked, waving the palm of his hand in front of her face.

No answer. She seemed to be in shock. Mental, emotional, or physical? Or was it something else?

Silently, Zach swore again. If she was in physical shock, how could he tell? Kendall always looked that way: She was naturally pale, and the typically skimpy dress she was wearing, baring her arms and much of her chest, was hardly conducive to warmth—so naturally she would be shivering. But physical shock victims needed to be kept warm; so whether that was the case here or not, he decided he'd better err on the side of caution. He'd also better try to forget this was Kendall Hart, the virago who wanted his head on a platter, and regard her only as an innocuous neighbor who needed help. Otherwise, he might be tempted to treat her far less gently.

Utilizing the first thing at hand, which happened to be the Italian suede calfskin shirt jacket he wore over a black t-shirt, Zach yanked it off and tentatively drew it around her shoulders. She gave a slight frown but didn't resist beyond that. Zach actually found himself preferring the more recognizably vocal model to this nearly catatonic version.

Repeating, "Kendall, Kendall, come on," he snapped his fingers under her nose. Which was also mostly useless. Although she seemed to have some awareness of him, she wouldn't or couldn't respond. What should he do next? Shock victims needed to lie flat, but there was no way he was going to attempt _that_. Zach wondered. Kendall was breathing normally enough, neither gasping for breath nor on the verge of fainting. She just seemed…numbed. Was the situation really dire enough to call 911? He wracked his brains for someone to phone for advice. The on-call doctor for the Seasons East?

With Kendall still huddled under his jacket, Zach climbed to his feet and located her telephone. But as he began to punch in Edie's number, Myrtle Fargate popped into his mind…ah, that was it! Even though as far as he knew Myrtle had no formal medical training, she was an extraordinarily practical woman of uncommon good sense, who knew Kendall and all her tricks well. Directory assistance provided Myrtle's number, and in a moment he had Myrtle on the line. He barely had time to identify himself and explain the urgent purpose of his call when he heard Kendall gasp.

To his immense relief, she was staring up at him with awareness. He asked Myrtle to hang on a moment while he checked Kendall out. "Porch light's on, I see. Anybody home, Kendall?"

"Who let you in?" She sounded slightly bewildered.

"You answer my questions first; then I'll answer yours. I've got Myrtle Fargate on the line at the moment. Should I get medical attention for you?"

"No, I—Myrtle?"

"Here. Talk to her. She'll tell you I'm not here to steal the silver."

Kendall's expression was unreadable as she listened to Myrtle. Her few one- or two-word answers told an interested Zach nothing until she said in a low voice, "I'm really okay, Myrtle. I—I just misinterpreted something I heard on the news and I guess the stress got to me." When the call was finished, Kendall struggled to her feet and dusted herself off, a process Zach ungallantly observed without offering assistance.

Now she was recovered from her mysterious fit, and he knew the reason for it, he simply wanted to escape before this encounter escalated into another round. Zach stuck out his hand. "I'll be going. Jacket, please?"

She did not comply. "Tell me something first. Myrtle said you rushed over when you heard me scream. Why?"

"You know how thin these walls are, Kendall. Doors too. Shoddy construction."

"It's your turn to answer me."

"Atavism."

"Like I know what that means?"

"It means most men are programmed to respond when a woman screams."

"So did you think if something happened to me, you could grab Miranda?" she pressed.

Although he didn't expect an expression of fervent gratitude for his genuine if unenthusiastic rescue attempt, Zach was flabbergasted by Kendall's immediate return to hostilities. "Tell you what," he said coldly. "Try not to set your house on fire—from now on you're on your own."

After an uncharacteristic few moments' silence, she said in a small voice, "I was just trying to—oh, never mind."

"Trying to what, Kendall? Add to my rap sheet?"

"I just wanted to hear what you'd say."

"As it happens, I knew Miranda wasn't here. I saw Greenlee and her estimable husband leave with her earlier. Anything else you'd like to accuse me of before I go, just to make sure we're both on the same page?"

Instead Kendall changed the subject, asking, rather diffidently for her, "Aren't you even going to ask why I had a melt down?"

"I heard what you said to Myrtle. Another of your misinterpretations."

Distractedly she rubbed her arms and looked away. "The TV was on but I was working at the sink. I couldn't catch _every_thing they were saying—but I did hear something about a plane crash, so how else was I supposed to react? This may be hard for somebody like you to understand, but I just _lost _it. Then I realized they were talking about a military plane, not the Cambias jet. I was too relieved to even _absorb_ it—and then I felt guilty for being thankful it was some strangers who died, and not my family."

"I saw the same report," Zach replied evenly. "My jacket, please, Kendall?"

"All right, all right already! Here, take it. God forbid _you_ should ever show any normal human emotion!" Kendall's voice quavered slightly. Pulling the jacket from her shoulders, she lobbed it at him.

Zach's caught it midair without comment. "You've already cast me as the villain who engineered the Cambias jet disappearance and who now plans to abduct Miranda," he shrugged. "I'm puzzled you'd expect human emotion from me as well."

"Yeah, well, me too, Zach," she muttered. "Me too, except for what just happened. It doesn't add up…I can't figure it out."

Zach shrugged before heading for the door. "And never will—not as long as the answer you start out with is wrong."

Back home, he retrieved the whiskey tumbler from the carpet. "What a waste of a good Scotch," he mused, scrutinizing the stain. He didn't particularly care if the spilled whiskey damaged the rug—his taste ran more to gleaming hardwood floors than wall-to-wall carpet, but he'd bought the condo carpeted—but he was too meticulous to wait for his weekly cleaning service to deal with it. And he wasn't above performing such a menial task himself so, spraying the spot with carpet shampoo, Zach attacked it with a damp sponge.

Scrubbing was something for his hands to do, something productive, or at least something not destructive, such as pounding a hole in the wall with one or more clenched fists would have been. Five minutes later he had the cleanest spot of carpet on the eastern seaboard, his hand still mechanically scrubbing while his thoughts had traveled thousands of miles away, from Kendall's living room to the remote mountain passes of southwestern Colorado.

He could charter a plane to Montrose, be there before daylight, join in the search for the son whose existence raised such mixed emotions in him, but mostly the search for Bianca…. Zach had climbed his share of tall hills; what was a mountain range? Except for the tiny details: He wasn't an experienced climber, he'd never participated in a search for anyone or anything before, much less in such a difficult terrain, and even if you couldn't miss a downed plane, he didn't know the first thing about conditions in the San Juan Mountains. Zach was man enough to own that his presence, much less his assistance, would not be welcomed at search headquarters.

_Fuck this_, he thought in mounting frustration. Why was he still hanging around here anyway? He couldn't even remember why it had seemed a reasonable idea at the time. Maybe he couldn't go climbing mountains, but when he was about to start climbing his own walls, a change of scene was called for. When driving oneself crazy, the route _should _at least be scenic. Zach decided to check things at the casino, and then blow off some steam at the health club. But first, to make the workout really worthwhile, maybe he'd provoke some drama in Mr. and Mrs. Laverys' smug little domestic sphere by dropping by and letting them know he didn't intend to be shut out of his niece's life by them any more than he intended to be shut out by Kendall


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

"Kendall, honey, it's Myrtle. I take it there's no news?"

"Oh, hi, Myrtle." Kendall had leapt on the phone when it rang. She couldn't keep the dejection that the caller was only Myrtle from her voice. "No, nothing. Derek called a little while ago and said the search was intensifying. I thought you might be him with an update."

"I wish I were!" Myrtle sighed, without her normal verve. "This waiting is getting to me too. I feel all at loose ends. I hope Miranda is keeping you busy. How are you getting along with her?"

"Well…Miranda actually wasn't her for that long. Greenlee and Ryan already have a set up for a baby and they convinced me she'd be better off staying with them, but I'm going over there for a visit in a little while, as soon as I finish dressing. I just got out of the shower."

"All right, then, I won't keep you. But will you please give that precious lamb a kiss for me?"

"Of course I will, Myrtle. Hey, why don't I pick you up and take you with me, so you can give her that kiss for yourself? Who knows, you might just prevent World War Three at the same time."

"That's a lovely invitation and I'd love to accept it, darlin', but my arthritis is acting up something terrible," Myrtle admitted.

Kendall made a sympathetic noise. "All the stress, huh? I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do for you? Run to the store for any groceries you need, or the video store to pick up a Brad Pitt video?"

As Kendall had intended, Myrtle chuckled. "Cary Grant is more my speed, Kendall. No, honey, don't worry about me. Just take care of yourself and Miranda."

"I'll try. I'm not doing such a good job so far. We almost ran into a flock of reporters on our way home. I hope I don't run the same gauntlet when I go out. You should have seen what Zach—"

"Zach?" Myrtle prompted.

"Oh, nothing really. Just that when we got home, we couldn't get through the gate because of all the reporters around it, but then Zach rolled out in his _tank_ and scattered everybody far and wide like duckpins at the bowling alley." _Mistake_. As soon as the words left her lips, Kendall berated herself. Zach was the last person she should be discussing, in any way, shape, or form, with the partisan Myrtle. Yet as hard as she tried to put Zach from her mind, he kept barreling his way back in. The same way he did in reality.

Myrtle sounded delighted. "He's looking out for you, Kendall. Zach Slater is the real deal. You didn't need to hand Miranda over to Greenlee, not when that child's uncle lives right across the way from you, and he being so good with her."

_Count to ten, Kendall. Count to ten. Myrtle's an old lady, she's not feeling well, and _you_ started this_. "I hate to break it to you, Myrtle, but Zach Slater is _not_ Cary Grant. He's manipulative, deceitful, detestable scum. You _know_ I don't trust him with Miranda as far as I can throw him, so why do you keep going there?"

Again Myrtle chuckled. "When you put your mind to it, Kendall, you can throw a man quite a distance and make him enjoy the trip. Oh, Mr. Slater's a bit of a scoundrel, but I never said Cary Grant was perfect either. Our friend Zach set all the tongues in Pine Valley wagging at both ends when he came to town, but Kendall, does any man worth his salt not give people something to talk about? You know exactly how much gossip is worth: The same amount it costs to listen to."

_My father is going to pay for what he's done to me, Kendall. I'm going to make him pay. Zach tried to deprive me of my name and my heritage and it's my turn now to deprive him of everything he has. The Cambias Curse is alive and well and about to eat him whole and there's no place he can hide from it, not even if he travels the world. My greatest pleasure in life will be destroying Zach Slater. How I'll make him suffer, Kendall…you'll see. I'll make him suffer ten times over for everything he's done to me…and then ten times more._

"Kendall? Darlin'?"

Snapping with difficult back into the present, Kendall replied, "I'm here, Myrtle. Look, I'd better run. I'll call you when I get home unless something happens while I'm out, okay?"

"Please do, honey. And don't forget that kiss for Miranda from me."

After quickly pulling on the turquoise tank top and low-slung black slacks she had already planned to wear, Kendall removed a fitted black blazer from her closet and donned that too, buttoning it snugly. The act was only remotely reminiscent of Zach's loosely putting his jacket around her earlier; no, it had nothing in common with that, and thank god she had not mentioned any part _that_ entirely cringe-worthy incident to Myrtle or Myrtle'd be placing his name in nomination for white-knighthood or possibly cutting right to the chase and going for sainthood, Kendall snorted privately.

It was just that all of a sudden she'd felt chilled while listening to Myrtle praise Zach…and no, not chilled by anything Myrtle said, she must be growing immune to that, but chilled by the echoes it summoned of Ethan's solemn promises to destroy his father.

Why? _Why shouldn't Ethan hate Zach? Zach denied him…just like Erica denied me. His share of Cambias Industries is everything to Ethan yet Zach wants to take it from him. Zach pretends it's to save Ethan from the Cambias Curse, but why should Ethan believe a word he says when Zach's been lying to him from day one?_

But…but. There was the Miranda Center construction delay. The mounting obsession with wealth and power and superiority. The maniacal glee in Ethan's eye when he spoke of ruining Zach. Revenge consumed Ethan, seeming to matter to him more than anything else…even more than Kendall herself. Of course, he assumed she understood, she who'd hated her mother and loved Ethan—should understand, and hate the father he hated, for the same reason she'd hated her mother.

_But I love Erica now and I didn't really hate her then. If I hated her I never would have been so desperate for her to love me. I just went about trying to make her love me all the wrong way_.

Kendall absent-mindedly inserted a dangling earring. _Is Ethan doing with Zach what I tried to do with Erica?_ Forcing _his love? Is Zach doing with Ethan what Erica did with me, pushing him away because he doesn't know what to do with that love yet? Let's see. No…no, because the situations aren't the same. I—I was forced on Erica and she always knew I existed. Ethan was an accident, and Zach only just found out Ethan was his son. And I'm a lot older than Ethan— it took Erica _years _to notice I was self-destructing. Zach is already trying to stop Ethan from—_

"Oh, _shit_. Shit, shit, shit!" she swore aloud as her hand slipped and the earring's post stabbed into her flesh instead of smoothly gliding through her pierced earlobe. "This is exactly what—_how—_Zach wants me to think. Well, I won't dance to his tune, no matter how loud Myrtle and Greenlee play their violins. I won't let him or any of them lull me into a false sense of security and I won't let him win this one. I can't, I can't and I won't. And now I guess I'm as whacked as Greenlee—talking to myself like this."

Pausing just long enough in the living room to collect her overcoat and purse, Kendall stormed out of her condo at the same time Zach was locking his own door behind him. When he looked up and saw her, she stiffened self-consciously. In response he bowed his head with an odious little grin on his face and silently motioned with his hands for her to precede him. Kendall didn't need a second invitation, stalking off without acknowledging Zach at all. But she could hear him walking right behind her, the solid tapping of his hateful footsteps keeping pace with the brisk tattoo of her stiletto heels and providing a counterpoint to the conflicting emotions ricocheting around in her chest.

Although why she should still feel at all conflicted after the lecture she'd delivered to herself, Kendall was neither certain nor willing to examine further. She was simply glad to have nearly reached her car, when Zach walked smartly up alongside her exuding his standard arrogance.

"You seem fully recovered," he remarked suavely.

"I am," she replied shortly. "I'm going to see Miranda."

"Glad to hear it. Then it's safe to mention I'm heading over to see Miranda as well."

Kendall turned on him. "You're what?"

"To repeat, I'm visiting Miranda—my niece. I'm going unannounced, so there's no need for you to hold Greenlee responsible."

"Good luck on that. Even if Greenlee lets you in the house, Ryan won't!"

"You think not?" A hopeful expression crossed Zach's face. "That could prove interesting."

"Don't you ever get tired of going where you're not wanted?" Kendall exploded.

"But you see, there were no objections when I facilitated your entering the parking lot," Zach said softly. "Or made sure the earsplitting screech penetrating my walls wasn't because a pack of rabid dogs was savaging you. At least, no initial objections."

"Because you had an ulterior motive, Zach. You always do. So I can't give you credit for that, sorry." Unconsciously, Kendall clutched the ends of her open coat a little tighter.

"We could carpool," he needled.

"You can forget about _that_!"

"One more thing I'll mention then, Kendall, before we go our separate ways. Where Miranda is concerned, I suspect Greenlee won't be much happier to see you than her husband will to see me."

"I don't see why not. Greenlee expects me to be a frequent visitor as long as she's taking care of Miranda. She said I could visit whenever I want."

"Visit? Visitor, oh, that's fine. But what if you want Miranda back? I noticed the possessive way Greenlee and Ryan carried Miranda off with them, rather like a trophy."

"Will you stop playing whatever mind games you think you're playing!" Kendall protested uneasily. "That's Greenlee's style. She was born with a silver spoon in her mouth so she comes across like she's entitled to everything, but it doesn't mean she really thinks she is."

"No? You temporarily entrusted Miranda to Greenlee based on that ringing endorsement?" Zach asked curiously.

"And Greenlee speaks so well of you," Kendall said witheringly.

"I'm serious, Kendall. My livelihood depends in part on reading body language. I've nothing against Greenlee personally. I'm telling what I observed. You can take it or leave it."

The two of them still stood facing each other by the trunk of Kendall's car, unmindful of passing traffic and other residents' coming and going. Zach's observation left Kendall for once with no argument, for he was only voicing, more overtly and specifically, her own vague misgivings, misgivings she'd let Greenlee appease earlier.

"Why, Zach?" she asked. "Why are you wasting time warning me? Why aren't you rushing over there and sucking up to them then, and taking the opportunity to badmouth me behind my back so you can cut me out and get _your_ hands on Miranda?"

They stared at each other some more. At last Zach said, "Kendall, regardless of my opinion of you, or yours of me, it's never been a goal of mine to come between you and Miranda."

"After all that you've done, I should believe that—why?"

Zach stepped back. "The obvious answer should be that as Bianca's sister, you're whom she would designate Miranda's guardian…should it ever come to that. And—again, regardless of your and my opinions of each other—Bianca's wishes are paramount. As always, take it or leave it."

Watching him cross the aisle to his huge black Range Rover, Kendall felt the tears she'd managed to hold back today gather in the back of her throat. _Should it ever come to that? _It wouldn't come to that…it couldn't. But if it did…if it did, why would Zach even bother to imply, especially privately to her instead of in front of a roomful of witnesses he was trying to impress, that he'd _support_ her claim to Miranda? That didn't makes sense…not if he was the perpetrator behind the Cambias jet disappearance, who hadn't been aware Miranda wasn't on the flight, who needed to get Miranda out of the way in order to reclaim the Cambias empire all for himself.

No, under those circumstances it didn't make any sense for Zach to support Kendall's custody of Miranda. Not when it would be infinitely easier to get rid of one helpless baby than it would be to get rid of one helpless baby _and _her very suspicious aunt. It didn't make any sense at all.

_Zach's just playing more of his head games_, she finally decided. _I don't know what he's up to but if he thinks he's going to beat me to Greenlee's he's got another thought coming. I'm going to be one step ahead of him._


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Greenlee hadn't been kidding. She and Ryan had furnished a designer nursery fit for a unisex royal offspring. Tucked into her pale yellow crib beneath the perfectly coordinated moss, daffodil, and white patchwork quilt, Miranda slept as contentedly as a tiny queen.

Greenlee led Kendall back to the living room, where a violin sonata was playing very softly. "See? I told you Miranda was out like a light."

"Big deal. Babies do spend most of their time sleeping. It's not like she's doing something special just for you," Kendall sniffed.

"And before I put her down for her nap, she ate a whole serving of Baby Bunny Luscious Carrot Custard," Greenlee went on proudly. "Every crumb, or maybe I should say drop, because it was pureed so it didn't have any crumbs, but the main thing is, she _loved_ it."

Kendall knew she was revealing her ignorance. "What is that, designer baby food?"

Greenlee seemed to just be waiting for that question. "Nope! It's a recipe from my new copy of the Baby Bunny Cookbook. I made it from scratch. None of that mass-produced, commercial disgusting baby glop for my little cousin—I'm starting her out with the best to help her develop a discriminating palate. Sit down, Kendall, and I'll go get the book from the kitchen. You can help me pick out Miranda's next menu."

"Well, carrot custard sounds just delicious, Greenlee, and you could probably serve it at your own next dinner party and pass it off as carrot soufflé, but Bianca didn't—doesn't make her own baby food, so I don't think she'd expect you to do it just because you're babysitting Miranda." Kendall took a seat on Greenlee's sofa, but she didn't plan to stay very long. Greenlee was even wearing an apron—a _ruffled_ apron, for god's sake. The background music began to sound like the _Twilight Zone _theme instead of Mozart.

"Miranda needs to be exposed to the finer things in life before her tastes have a chance to cheapen like y—, I mean, before she comes under too much well-meaning but lax influence." Interrupting Kendall's incipient eruption with a hasty, "I'll go get the book," Greenlee left the room. "I'll get some wine for us, too," she called over her shoulder.

Of course, Zach Slater would choose that very moment to arrive, forcing her to be the one to admit him lest he bang on the door and wake up Miranda. Kendall had lost sight of him on the drive over, hoping against hope that meant that either he'd changed his mind about visiting Miranda himself, or that he'd never really intended to in the first place. Wrong on both counts, for there Zach stood, holding a sheaf of red tulips and yellow roses in one hand and a plush, floppy stuffed lamb in the other.

"I see you hit the mall on your way over," Kendall said acidly.

In response Zach thrust the flowers toward her and when she instinctively grabbed at them, he thrust the teddy bear at her too, as if she were the hired help. "Thanks," he smirked. "The flowers are for Mrs. Lavery and the lamb is for my niece."

Greenlee rushed back into the room before Kendall could complete her eruption. "Flowers," she smiled. "Zach, how lovely. Kendall, will you take them into the kitchen and lay them on the counter until I can figure out which vase to put them in? And as long as you're already in there, could you add another glass to the tray I was fixing for us, and bring it in? The wineglasses are in the cabinet above the dishwasher."

"Very good, madam. Shall I wax the floor while I'm there, or start dinner?" Kendall asked between her teeth.

"Ha, ha, Kendall. Oh, wait, take the flowers, but don't walk off with this darling little lamb! Oh, look, it's a Steiff. Thanks, Zach, Miranda will love it. She's probably not awake yet, but we can tiptoe in for a minute so you can see how comfy she is in her new little digs." Plucking the stuffed animal from Kendall's arms, Greenlee began to steer Zach in the direction of the nursery.

"I forgot to ask. Where's Ryan, Greenlee?" Kendall asked pointedly.

"Ryan's holding down the fort at Fusion. We thought it would be less overwhelming for Miranda if we each have separate down time with her. Then when she's gotten more used to us, Ryan and Miranda and I can all spend time together."

From behind Greenlee, Zach caught Kendall's eye and gave just the tiniest shrug of his broad shoulders. Only for the sake of Miranda's peaceful slumber did Kendall once refrain from hurling her armful of flowers at him. Gritting her teeth even harder, she went to the kitchen and dumped the flowers on the nearest surface that was higher than the floor. _He knew you were going to be here_, she tried to calm herself down. _He's just trying to piss you off._

Where oh where was one of Dr. David Hayward's magic potions when you needed one? Pouring another glass from the bottle of vintage Chardonnay Greenlee had chosen from her multi-tiered wine rack, Kendall fantasized Zach clutching his abdomen after taking a sip from it, and crashing to the floor. It would serve both him and Greenlee right, and then while Zach was writhing in agony and Greenlee was screaming into the phone for help, she would waltz into the nursery, liberate Miranda from the eternally spring-like bower and the gourmet mashed carrots, and head for the nearest border.

"White? I was rather hoping for a lusty red."

Kendall nearly jumped a foot in the air when Zach's deep voice spoke behind her. "Greenlee is your hostess, not I. Where is she, anyway? I'm surprised you could tear yourself away."

"Jealous?"

"_No._ Just curious."

"Miranda needed changing. My assistance wasn't required."

"Greenlee's had _lessons_. Look, I don't need your assistance either, Zach. So why don't you buzz off," Kendall grumbled.

Zach reached around her. "Which of these glasses is mine?"

"Take your pick. I didn't have time to add rat poison to any of them, if that's what you mean."

"Then I'll throw caution to the wind. This makes up for the Scotch I wasted on you today."

As befitting Greenlee, the glasses were small and dainty. Zach swallowed his wine in two gulps and replaced the glass on the counter. Kendall was still trapped between them, she still hadn't erupted, but she could feel her temperature rising.

"Scotch? I don't even know what you're talking about, Zach," she said impatiently. "Now get out of my way. Maybe Greenlee is willing to accommodate your boorishness, but I'm not."

"If you hurry, Kendall, you'll be just in time to watch Greenlee tuck Miranda in for the night," he gibed. "I've taken my leave of them, now I'm doing the same with you. I'm going on to the casino from here."

"Zach, you don't need to check in or out with me. I don't keep track of your comings and goings."

The kitchen door swung open and Greenlee appeared with her hands on her hips. "There you two are! Kendall, what's taking so long with the wine? Zach, are you sure we can't talk you into staying? Although Ryan will probably be calling soon to say he's on his way home so it's probably for the best if you don't stay for a long visit, although I can't wait to show him Miranda's new little lamb."

"Boy, Greenlee, you sure can be bought off easy," Kendall said, shaking her head. "I think I'll leave too. But I'll call you tomorrow about Miranda. Maybe we can work out a system, that is if we have to, at least for now. Last night Miranda spent with Myrtle, tonight with you…I'll get some things in the house tomorrow to get ready for her, then tomorrow night will be my turn to have her."

"Sure, Kendall," Greenlee agreed in such an artificial tone of voice that Kendall hoped she was misreading its cause. "But why is that necessary? You can see how happy Miranda is being here with Ryan and me, and our little nursery is just tailor-made for her. I haven't even had a chance to set her play den up in the living room—oh, I'll bet you don't even know what a play den is, do you?—well, it's just a big playpen that gives her plenty of room to move around without being able to get into things she shouldn't, especially when a place isn't all childproofed, although ours is, of course—but I'm sure yours isn't, Kendall." Greenlee's hands clamped down harder on her hips. "But we'll talk about it tomorrow."

Greenlee's last statement was so dismissive that Kendall knew she wasn't misreading her. Before she could protest, Zach put in suddenly, causing both girls to turn and stare at him, "What about my turn?" Their horrified expressions weakened his control further over the most vociferous of his perverse demons, the one that had been screaming loudest during the past twenty minutes to get out.

"_Your_ turn!" Greenlee laughed in the same artificial tone, while Kendall was too nonplussed to speak "Really, Zach, do I need to remind you you're a foot-loose and fancy-free bachelor, not part of an old married couple like I am? What do you know about taking care of babies?"

He shrugged. "I spent a lot of time overseeing the design and construction of the employee daycare centers in my casinos. More to the point, very little fazes me, including changing a diaper or feeding and bathing a little one and keeping it out of trouble."

Greenlee gave another insincere giggle. "Yes, and I can just see you up to your elbows in baby powder and teething rings. That would certainly turn on all the ladies, but do you really expect me to think you're even one step ahead of Kendall here?"

"Gee, thanks a lot, Greenlee," Kendall interrupted sarcastically. "Or do we start calling you Dr. Spock now?"

"Funny, Kendall—_not_. Sorry, Zach, you talk a good game but you're a man and men _always_ pretend they know more about everything than they really do."

"Being married for a year makes you the expert on men, too, Greenlee?" Surreptitiously, Kendall glanced at Zach to gauge his reaction to Greenlee's grandstanding. He remained silent, his head slightly cocked, listening to her with a faintly indulgent smile on his face.

"Shut _up_, Kendall. Now, Zach, I love the way you show up with presents, so I hate to be brutal, but let's get real here, okay? Kendall probably knows more about babies than you do and trust me, that is _not _saying much. So I guess this needs to be said—if I'm not about to let _her_ have Miranda, I'm certainly not about to let _you_ have her, and Ryan will back me up in this."

_So Zach was right_, Kendall thought in shock as Greenlee's announcement sunk in, _Greenlee actually confirmed it! She does intend to keep Miranda. And Zach—what happened to him wanting _me_ to have Miranda? Liar!_ _I should have known he was up to something!_ Opening her mouth to strenuously object to both of them, Kendall closed it again when another quick glance at Zach revealed that while his lips still smiled, his gaze upon Greenlee had slightly narrowed. _Oh, man, Greenlee. As upset with you as I am right now, I don't wish Zach on you either and you're an amateur compared with him._

Zach said only, "I see."

"Let's—let's talk about this tomorrow," Kendall heard herself gulp, "like you said in the first place, Greenlee. I think emotions—emotions are just running too high right now and you're not thinking too clearly. You and Ryan have wanted a baby; you already had that nursery set up, and now all of a sudden you have a baby to fill it. The only problem is you're forgetting it's a baby we all share. You're making a unilateral decision that affects all of us without making sure it's okay with all of us first." _Jessica H. Christ_, Kendall said to herself._ How bad is it when _I'm_ the voice of reason? But somebody has to placate Greenlee. I'll set Zach straight when it's just him and me._

"Everything could change tomorrow—or in the next minute—and make this discussion moot," Zach said in the same quiet voice, "so I will merely echo Kendall's suggestion that you not be too hasty, Greenlee."

It was Greenlee's turn to open her mouth and then close it without speaking. Watching her, Kendall sensed Greenlee hadn't a clue how to respond to a man who so politely but emphatically brooked no arguments. Abruptly, Greenlee shifted gears and reversed her stance a little—if only, Kendall suspected, to end the tense scene and get rid of them—with a frosty, "All right, maybe I went a little overboard but I only want what's best for Miranda."

"As do we all," Zach agreed smoothly. Inclining his upper body in a subtle bow, he said, "_Ladies_. I'll see myself out."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

"Zach! Wait up!" Kendall found herself calling and running after him, which wasn't easy in her high heels, as Zach took long strides down the street to his vehicle. There was something the two of them needed to clear up, and it couldn't wait. Following Zach almost immediately from Greenlee's, Kendall had paused barely long enough to tell Greenlee she'd call her the next day, but he'd still gotten way ahead of her.

Finally, he stopped and turned. "Did you want something, Kendall?"

"You know I do!" she huffed. "What the _hell_ did you meant about your turn with Miranda, Zach? What happened to your wanting to do what _Bianca_ wanted?"

Zach opened his passenger side door. "They're expecting me at the casino so if you want to prolong this now, you can get in and come with me and we'll do it on the way. Otherwise you'll have to wait. One place we will not have this conversation is out on the street."

"But—but my car is here too."

"It'll be taken care of." When still looked hesitant, he added impatiently, "I'm not taking you _hostage_, Kendall. Come or go, it's entirely up to you. Either way I'm not waiting around."

At that she climbed into the Range Rover, just as unwilling to delay resolving the issue, as she was to go anywhere with Zach. She knew he was fully aware of her ambivalence—he was probably enjoying himself at her expense, the jerk. Was there never to be an end to the battles she was destined to wage with this infuriating man? So far the day had been nothing but a series of them, with the skirmishes with Greenlee thrown in for good measure…and now she was stuck with Zach again for god knew how long. Sighing, Kendall buckled herself in and leaned her head against the window as Zach drove off.

He handled the wheel expertly and assertively, and he drove fast. Trying to ignore the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach, Kendall began with more confidence than she felt, "Look, Zach I thought it was bad when Greenlee went into her earth mother act, but at least I understood where she was coming from. Maybe it's too much to expect from you, but I want to know why you changed your tune about me all of a sudden."

"I didn't change my tune."

"Yes, you did! How did you go from doing what Bianca wanted, which we both know would be Miranda staying with me, to Miranda's staying with _you_?"

Quickly glancing at her, Zach returned his gaze to the road. "Is that what I said?"

"Of course," Kendall replied angrily. "Don't deny it. But in the first place I wouldn't let you take care of my pet hamster if I had one. In the second place, as long as I'm around hell will freeze over before you ever get to Miranda. So in the third place that means your chances are zero, zilch, and zip anyway—but why did you try to make me think you wouldn't?"

"What a charming way you have of prefacing questions, Kendall. I have one of my own. Why do you persist in believing Miranda isn't safe with me?"

"You know why! It's been almost twenty-four hours, Bianca and my mother and Ethan and Jack are still missing, and I think you—you know something about it." Kendall looked out the window. The late winter afternoon was dwindling, and she shivered.

"Even you are tactful enough to refrain from calling me a murderer when I'm doing the driving, eh?" Zach asked coolly.

"You've never given me any reason to trust you," she retorted.

"And you so innocent of subterfuge yourself."

Kendall's hackles rose higher. "That's not the point."

"No? My point is that having a less than spotless character doesn't necessarily make one a killer, much less unfit for society. Kendall, we're both aware of your past. Would you acquiesce to the suggestion that things you've done automatically make _you_ capable of murder?"

"You're twisting my words, Zach! Look how you treated Ethan—"

"Shall we talk about young Ethan?" Zach took another sideways glance at her. "How happy you are with him? Or that winning his fortune is destroying him, why I tried to prevent that from happening, and how much he hates me for it?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Kendall looked out the window again and bit her lip. Zach had no idea how accurately he'd hit the nail on the head. Regardless of his motives for trying to keep Ethan and his inheritance apart, motives which Zach of course claimed were pure and Ethan equally insisted were malevolent, the result of Zach's failure had nevertheless enhanced his reputation as a prophet: Ethan's riches were destroying him—and his relationship with Kendall along with it. Which made Zach the last person Kendall could ever or would ever level with. Leveling with herself that the sweet boy she'd thought she known had apparently never really existed was hard enough.

Pressing his advantage as she remained silent, Zach added, "I've made mistakes, Kendall, many of them. My worst have been very public. I couldn't deny them if I would. But I have only ever wanted what is ultimately best for Ethan."

Turning to him again, Kendall replied with a weak show of bravado. "Fine, whatever you say, Zach. We'll print your picture on a father of the year poster, how's that? Now can we return to the reason I ever got _in _this monster truck of yours—_Miranda_, and what you meant by what you told me and then what you told Greenlee? How is that 'ultimately best' for Miranda?"

Braking to a stop at a red traffic light, Zach relaxed his grip on the steering wheel and flexed his fingers to try to expel some of his growing frustration. Kendall was, as always, a broken record. But his frustration was directed more at himself and at the situation as a whole than at her. He could have allayed her fears with a few words of clarification. Instead, he'd used them to inveigle her into joining his trip, for the same reason he'd separated her from the reporters that morning, i.e. cloistering Kendall might prevent her from shooting her mouth off to the world at large. The downside was that for the time being they were stuck in this loop of an argument.

Suddenly, Zach's mobile phone beeped in its cradle on the dashboard. Pressing the remote button on the steering wheel, he answered the call and a voice filled the air.

"Zach? This is Derek Frye. I'm outside your place. Where are you? And do you know where Kendall is?"

"Oh my god!" Kendall frantically broke in. "Oh my god, Derek, I'm here! In Zach's car I mean, with him, on the road, going to the casino. _What is it_?"

"Kendall…." There was hesitation in Derek's voice. "The casino. Okay. Zach, how close are you? Would it be faster for me to meet you folks there or for you to turn around and come home?"

From behind them came a loud honk. Zach realized the light was now green. "Hold on, Derek." Executing a U-turn with a practiced spin of the wheel as Kendall bit off a shriek, Zach steered the Range Rover into rush of the oncoming traffic with mere inches to spare. "We're headed for home now, Derek," he announced, his eerily calm voice belying the racing of his heart. "Can you tell us what's up?"

"Not over the phone, Zach. We'll talk when you get here."

Again Kendall broke in. "What about Greenlee, Derek? Does she know anything yet?"

"No, she doesn't, Kendall. No more questions for now, all right? Sounds like Zach needs to concentrate on his driving. I'll wait here outside your condos for you. Over and out."

"It's bad news. It's bad news," Kendall was moaning as Derek's voice faded. "If it was good, he would have said. It's bad, I just know it. Oh my god. _Oh my god_."

Very much afraid he was in total agreement with her, Zach tried to block out Kendall's piteous noise and center his attention on the road. His entire consciousness seemed to have shrunk instantaneously from its normal expansiveness into the tiniest speck trapped in long, dark, ominous tunnel, where even one thing at a time was almost more than he could handle.

Owing mostly to his ability to drive efficiently on automatic pilot, they reached home in record time, Kendall stumbling and nearly falling in her ridiculous shoes as she exited the SUV. She managed to catch at the door handle, using it to pull herself up. Following the effort she leant against the door quietly hyperventilating.

Zach sighed to himself. Hadn't he already attended the matinee performance of this act today and not enjoyed the show the first time? But only the most heartless of men could have left Kendall in such a condition then, or now. Especially now. He went back to her. "Don't fall apart," he ordered softly. "Come on, Kendall, we've got to go in."

Her eyes were screwed shut. "My legs feel like spaghetti," she breathed. "I can't. I can't."

"Here, take my arm and hang on to it." Somehow Zach's voice stayed calm and his arm steady. "See? It's right in front of you."

Slowly her eyes opened, and she tried to swallow. "I…I…don't think I c–can."

"Yes, you can. First take my arm. Then put one foot in front of the other. Then do the same with the other foot. Come on, try it. It's easy."

"M–my l–legs won't work."

Trying to persuade her to move, Zach slid his arm between the Range Rover and Kendall's shoulders, gently pushing her forward, toward him. The next thing he knew, her hands were gripping his shoulders, while the rest of her drooped against him as limply as a rag doll. Against his chest he could feel her heart beating as harshly as his own was…or _was_ that his heart he was feeling? Impossible to distinguish between them at that moment…for even if it was ever only for that moment, he and Kendall had been transformed from two adversaries into two fellow sufferers…united by the same consuming fear.

"We can't stay out here all night, Kendall. Derek is waiting," Zach murmured. "If you can't walk I'll have to carry you."

Against his chest Kendall shook her head. Still holding on to him, she tried to firm her feet against the ground. Slowly releasing her grip from Zach's shoulders, she moved her hands down his arms until she was using them to brace herself against his forearm. Then she took a tentative step. They walked a few yards in that halting fashion before she was stable enough to advance without a stranglehold on his arm.

Zach was almost sorry when she let go of him. Kendall's touch was better than no human contact at all. At least she still crept along at a snail's pace, giving him an excuse to drag his heels. Not for years and years, since he'd been a young boy facing the unholy wrath of his unforgiving god-like father for some minor infraction, could Zach recall experiencing such dread.

No sign of it registered on his poker face. When they reached the inner courtyard and he spotted and greeted Derek, no sign of it altered his voice. But while he waited for Kendall to unlock her condo where, in unspoken mutual assent, the three of them gathered like mourners already at a wake, it was reflected in his eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Like a spindly newborn foal Kendall collapsed immediately in a chair. Zach remained standing, longing for the decanter of Scotch at home on his sideboard. Derek, also standing, probably longed for it too but looked preternaturally sober.

Clearing his throat, Derek said, "You may want to be seated for this too, Zach."

But Zach's knees felt locked. As he said, "I'll stand," Kendall sucked her breath in, loudly.

Derek cleared his throat again. "Let me begin by saying that I would give almost anything not to be the bearer of this news. Kendall, Zach, we just got word that the Feds have found the Cambias plane. This isn't a full report—the search is being hampered by bad weather, and the investigation is incomplete and continuing, so I can only tell you what they currently have."

The suspense was unbearable. "And?" Zach asked.

"Nothing conclusive but they do have a very preliminary finding as to the cause of the…flight malfunction." Derek looked miserable. "The pilot was flying too low for conditions, so essentially pilot error compounded by weather. Ice developed on the wings, causing the—the plane to dip, one of the wings sheared off some treetops. The pilot lost control and the plane…went down and…er, broke up."

"_And_?" Zach asked again.

For the third time, Derek cleared his throat. "Er…uh, look, Zach, I wish you'd sit down."

Mutely, Zach folded himself onto the edge of the sofa closest to Kendall's chair. He didn't dare look at her.

Derek continued, "They've found two bod—they've found two so far. The pilot and Ethan. Neither—I'm sorry. They didn't survive."

Somebody whispered, "Ethan," and Zach didn't even realize it was himself. This was what Zach had feared to hear…prayed not to hear. _So much for prayers_.

"Ethan?" Kendall asked piercingly. "Just _Ethan_? But where are Bianca and Erica? And Jackson?"

"There's no word on the others yet so I can't tell you that yet, Kendall. Only Ethan and the pilot have been recovered. The debris field covers a mountainous area and as I said, the weather is also an issue so the search isn't easy."

To both men's surprise, Kendall jumped to her feet. "Not _easy_!" she cried. "What, do they need _help_? I'll go out there and help them then! We can't let Bianca die! We can't let Erica die!"

Suddenly swept up by her fervor, Zach forgot his recent acknowledgement of the utter futility of such a plan. "I'll charter a plane," he declared. "If they're there we'll find them. I should have done it before. I thought about it, but—"

"No, Zach. No, Kendall," Derek shook his head regretfully. "I understand your desire to do that but let the professionals handle it."

"But I have to go there!" Kendall protested. "I have to find my sister and my mother! And how can you expect me to believe _Ethan_ is dead if I can't see him? How do I know there hasn't been some mistake and they found the wrong plane and that really isn't Ethan? How the hell can you expect me to just keep _sitting_ here and not _do_ anything?" Her voice trailed off and she hobbled into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her.

"I'm sorry," Derek repeated sincerely to Zach. "There's no doubt about Ethan. Both bodies have been positively identified from public records. If it's any consolation to you, they barely had time to know what was about to hit them. And trust me, civilians would only be in the way out there."

Zach bowed his head in defeat. He stood, walked to the window, peered out at the growing gloom and the patch of dark sky visible overhead, the same sky that had been one of the last sights his son had ever seen on this earth. _So, in the span of less than a year, I gained a full-grown son…and then lost him_._ Although I never really had him. He had no use for me, no more use than I had for my father. Now he's free of me, isn't he? But not the way he wanted. And not the way I wanted. _Once again he was alone in a universe that seemed to be out for Cambias blood. Or was the universe simply, objectively, even helpfully prepared to accept the blood they unknowingly signaled by their own self-aggrandizing actions they were so ready to offer?

There was still young, innocent Miranda…Zach's arms ached to hold her close once more, close and safe as he'd never held Ethan, but he feared such bitter, clumsy, anguished love would only taint her…taint her as it had Ethan in the brief time he'd known him.

God, his head ached, too, and he wasn't even drunk. Zach thought again of the Scotch but even downing the whole bottle wouldn't obliterate the sneaky little devils materializing around his knees, pointing at him with repulsive scaly fingers, laughing at in merciless voices.

Still his torment didn't show except in his eyes when he turned back to Derek and asked, "Is hoping for any survivors realistic at this point?"

"I don't know, Zach," Derek replied honestly. "I'm not out there."

Reading between the lines of Derek's non-response Zach forced himself to ask next, "Then…Ethan? What happens to him now?"

"Your son's remains were removed to the State Medical Examiner's Office. Eventually, probably in the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours, they'll be released to you as the next-of-kin."

"What—what do I do?" Zach thought he heard the laughter of his father, who had been forced to mount a funeral for him when he'd disappeared of his own volition, cackling along with that of the demons. _This is what it's like to lose a son you couldn't mold in your own image, Alex. Only your loss is for real._

"My office has worked with them before," Derek was saying, "so I know the Pine Valley Funeral Home can coordinate transportation arrangements to bring Ethan home. We'll help facilitate that for you, if that's what you want, Zach."

The gruesome matter-of-factness of the conversation was as chilling to Zach as its subject matter, yet it was the only thing keeping him grounded. "That would be…much appreciated. Thank you for your kindness, Derek."

"We'll be in touch, Zach. I've got to be moving on now. Can you handle Kendall on your own?" Derek asked in concern. There had not been another peep from her since she'd disappeared into the other room. "If not I can contact Myrtle Fargate to be with her," he added.

"I don't know what I can handle, in all truth," Zach admitted. "If Kendall still thinks I had anything to do with this, I don't think I can handle that."

"I'll clear that up right now." Derek swiftly crossed the room and knocked on the bedroom door. "Kendall? Kendall, I'm leaving soon. Do you have any other questions for me?"

From inside came her muffled voice. "Ye–es."

"May I open the door?"

"I'll come out." Padding out in her bare feet, Kendall rejoined Derek and Zach in the living room, not meeting either the gazes of either of them. She was currently dry-eyed, but her face was tear-stained.

Derek repeated briefly what he'd already told Zach after she'd fled to her room, adding, "And Kendall, one more thing. The plane's black box was recovered, which I earlier neglected to specifically mention. As you may know, black boxes record conversations that occur in the cockpit up to the moment of impact. I want to reiterate that as of now, based on both the black box recorder and the physical evidence, preliminary findings attribute the crash to pilot error with weather as a contributing factor. Kendall, it was a horrible, horrible accident, and I'm so sorry. But accidents happen—they happen all the time and they happen to good people."

_Derek, you're full of shit. Zach did it. _That was what Kendall wanted to say. It was only what she'd been saying all along. Now was her chance to really nail Zach but somehow her lips rebelled in mouthing the words…as if knowing such words, released now, would incur too great a cost after, taking on a life of their own, greedily drawing into them the very air from the room. But she and Zach breathed the same air…she would be suffocated too. "I didn't know private planes had black boxes," Kendall said instead.

The police chief nodded. "It's a requirement for any plane that carries more then ten passengers."

"Can I hear what is on the recording?"

"I don't have access to it, Kendall. Only the Feds and the experts they pick for the formal investigation can listen to the actual tape recording," Derek explained. "Afterwards a written transcript of the recording will be released. We can see you each receive a copy."

Did it matter? Pilot error and bad weather were amorphous things; you couldn't nail them to a wall and hurl your fears at them like poison-tipped darts, vainly seeking satisfaction as they flinched. You could only do that to a mark like Zach Slater: He was real, solid, _concrete_. His notoriety made of him a big, convenient, plausible target; the baggage he trailed slowed him down until he was impossible to miss. Zach stood quietly by the window, still and silent and weighted down as stone. But somehow the chance to nail him kept slipping like sand through her fingers. She simply couldn't control her aim anymore.

_But Zach _had _to have done it. He had to. Because if he didn't then there's no one I can blame for this, is there? _"How long will it take to get a transcript?" Kendall asked aloud, rubbing her arms.

Derek's voice was patient. "I wish I could tell you, Kendall, but I have no idea how the procedure will take."

"Don't put me down for a copy," Zach said in a low voice. "Rather not see it."

Glancing sympathetically at him, Derek said, "Okay, I've told you both all I know and I can't tell you how much I wish it was better news. I need to go now but I promise the instant I know _any_thing about Erica, Bianca, and Jack I'll contact you."

Kendall waited for Zach to follow out Derek out, yet she felt within herself an odd, unfamiliar, unexpected reluctance for Zach to leave. In her numbness it was all she was even dimly conscious of feeling, but why? Because Zach was a connection, however tenuous, to Ethan, formed from Zach's flesh? Unconsciously she rubbed her arms again. That didn't seem like quite the right answer. But nothing else made any better sense.

"Kendall." Zach's voice was so husky she had to strain to hear it.

"Yes?"

"For what it's worth—I want to say thank you."

"For what?" Kendall's confusion wasn't feigned.

"Thank you for giving Ethan someone to love and believe in, and to love and believe in him in return. He didn't have much of a father in me—but at least he had you. That made him a lucky man indeed."

"Stick the knife in, why don't you, Zach?" She found herself lashing out at his compassionate words, the uncalled-for reaction surprising Kendall herself.

There was a long pause. "That isn't what I was doing, Kendall. Nor what I intended to do. Still, I suppose anything I can say will come amiss. Just know it isn't meant to and I regret if it does. Good-night." Zach's tired voice was full of sadness.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, every so often glancing at the ever-changing digital numbers displayed on the clock face on the table beside the bed, Kendall passed the hours until dawn. The space of time between Zach leaving and the telephone calls beginning had been brief. Ethan's death had already hit the headlines and the news had quickly spread along the efficient person-to-person network that Pine Valley boasted. Kendall was sure she had spoken to everyone she knew and everyone her mother and Jack and Bianca knew. Fortunately many of them overlapped, or she would have been on the phone all night.

Still, the calls were numerous, but they were short; Kendall told each caller, including Myrtle, that she wasn't up to talking yet. And with each call, the palms of her hand bore ever deeper crescent-shaped impressions from her fingernails as her fists clenched in a superhuman effort to keep from screaming.

After the initial flurry of calls, Kendall had allowed a generous amount of time to elapse for Greenlee—or if Greenlee was too upset about Jack's continued disappearance, Ryan—to call. When no call from either Lavery was forthcoming, Kendall phoned them, and spoke with Ryan but not with Greenlee. Greenlee, he said, was trying to soothe Miranda, whose teething discomfort was keeping her awake, but they both very sorry to hear about Ethan, and they were both praying hard for everyone else.

Kendall believed the latter, but not the former. Ryan's insincerity in speaking of Ethan was palpable: He had cared for Ethan little more than he cared for Ethan's father—and he clearly despised Zach. At least Ryan tried to camouflage his opinion of Ethan in deference to her loss; Kendall knew Ryan too well to be fooled, but supposed he deserved credit for trying to be diplomatic. It was Ryan's quick turn to more practical matters, such as the impact Ethan's death would have on Cambias Industries and, therefore, on Ethan's co-heir to the company, Miranda, that Kendall ended the call.

She didn't want to be reminded again how, in her muddled state, she'd been so imprudent as to let the Laverys remove Miranda from her keeping. What mattered so much now wasn't Miranda's economic future, what mattered was figuring out how to regain possession of her sister's child, especially if…_no, Kendall, do_ not_ go there_. The discussion Ryan had in mind could wait, wait until Miranda was twenty-one and in a position to make her own decisions about running Cambias, as far as Kendall was concerned. For her own part, Kendall would have been happy to never hear the name Cambias again.

Rolling restlessly over on her side, she stared at the clock again. 3:00 a.m. already. The veil between reality and imagination Kendall frequently found so flimsy had flip-flopped along with the rest of life as she knew it. Lying in bed all alone, having lost a man she cared about, facing the likelihood of never seeing her dearest loved ones again in this life and, if so, wondering if she would really have to fight her erstwhile best friend—her niece's cousin—for custody of Miranda…oh, that was when imagination shrank from hard, cold, cruel reality.

Shadows faded away in daylight, you could shrug them off, put on a more flattering and comfortable outfit pulled from your closet of illusions. But when you had the misfortune to still be awake at 3:00 a.m., you came face to face with the naked truth making its rounds. And god help you, you couldn't hide from it then.

How could she deny it any longer? Zach was right all along. Cambias _was_ a cursed name. It was even beginning to seem like a point in Zach's favor that he'd changed his name, rejected his heritage, and tried to reject it for Ethan. If Ethan had stayed in England and remained Ethan Ramsey, chances were excellent he'd still be alive. Maybe in prison for escalating his college con games, but for sure not meeting his end on a snowy mountaintop on the way to accumulate more riches. _With my sister and mother you took with you?_ Kendall moaned to herself, then, _What are you doing, Kendall? Blaming _Ethan_ now for dying?_

Changing positions so she could bury her head in her pillow, she still couldn't block out Zach's parting words to her, thanking her for loving and believing in Ethan. She might have accused Zach of having her condo bugged and using those words specifically to taunt her for the very doubts she'd harbored lately about Ethan's changing priorities, except that she'd never voiced them aloud…and, devious as he was, even Zach couldn't read her mind. He couldn't know she had those doubts. He also couldn't know it was her own remorse for that that she'd expressed in response to his…well, his compassion—if a man like Zach could be said to possess the quality.

And after all she'd accused him of…that there was still no proof he _hadn't_ done, but…it was beginning to look as if maybe he really hadn't, but still…just because he'd been unexpectedly nice to her didn't mean she could let Zach off the hook. There were potential Miranda issues to resolve with _him_, too, that Derek's phone call had interrupted. Kendall squeezed back tears.

It all seemed so overwhelming, and she no longer had the luxury of zoning out at the mere prospect of the worst happening: The worst had already begun to happen. _How am I supposed to deal with all this_? she wondered dazedly. She was a fighter, but even the most indefatigable fighter eventually met her match.

Tired of watching the numbers keep marching forward to a morning whose arrival she shrank from facing even to escape the heartless night, tired of tossing and turning interspersed with fitful dozing, she finally arose before 5:00 a.m. and threw on a short robe over her skimpy nightgown. Myrtle's cure for almost anything was a cup of good, hot, strong tea. Maybe if she poured a shot of Amaretto into it…no, Ethan had tossed that, she recalled, dismissing it as too commonplace and replacing it with the Courvoisier XO he deemed more appropriate for the liquor cart of a multi-national CEO. _As long as it has the desired effect, I don't care what I drink. Why even bother to boil water for a teabag_? _Go straight for the booze._

But she felt cold, so cold. Cognac went down warm but it wasn't warm when you wrapped your hands around it and Kendall craved something to warm her on the outside as well as the inside. Filling the kettle with filtered water she set it to boil and wandered into the living room. A glow appeared around the edges of the closed front window blinds. Curiously she pried an opening in them and peeped out. The glow came from Zach's front window across the courtyard. In the light leaking through the partially opened slats of his own blinds she saw him pacing back and forth.

_Well, _he's _not cold_. Kendall widened the gap in her blinds. Zach wore a gray tank-style T-shirt and dark running shorts, exhibiting far more of his well-muscled physique then she'd ever before seen. As she watched, he grabbed a warm-up jacket from the back of a chair, put it on, and headed for his door. He must be going running, she realized, or to the gym for a dawn workout. She kept watching, unable to tear her gaze away. Even with the two walls separating them—and the open courtyard space between the walls—the visual display of Zach's innate strength acted as a magnet on her depleted spirit like steadily burning candlelight would draw to it a weakened, fluttering moth.

Once outside, Zach finished locking his door behind him, turned around, and happened to look her way—straight at her, through the hole in her blinds. At that moment, the tea kettle shrieked, startling Kendall into dropping the blinds with a clatter, making it even more obvious she'd been spying on him. _Oh, shit. Caught in the act. _Red-faced, she dashed to the stove to turn off the burner. But wait…what if Zach's appearance was opportune? God knew human company besides her own would be welcome after the endless, aching night. Well, almost any human company.

Although he was Ethan's father…the downside to inviting Zach Slater in for a cup of tea was that she wasn't convinced he was actually human—and she wasn't sure what it would accomplish, or even what she was trying to accomplish. A genuine truce? Or a less magnanimous maneuver? At a time when all she veered dizzily from numbness to feeling as though all her nerve-endings were exposed and back again to numbness, Kendall had no idea. She could only hope her instincts weren't leaving her completely in the lurch.

Running her hands through her unruly curls, she went to the door, remembering at the last second to securely cinch her robe, and reassuring herself with the knowledge there wasn't much she could do to make this bad situation much worse than it already was anyway. If Zach was already gone in the time she'd dithered, she'd take it as an act of whichever god was on duty.

But Zach was still out there, about equidistant from his door and hers, as if he too had dithered. The reach of the spotlights over each of their doors didn't quite extend to him. Distinguishing the expression on his face was difficult.

"Zach?" Kendall called nervously. At first she thought he was going to ignore her.

But he said, "What, Kendall?"

"I was fixing myself some tea. I saw your light was on," she continued inanely. "I guess you're leaving now, but I was going to ask if you wanted some."

He stepped closer. In the light shining upon him he looked so haunted Kendall felt a corresponding chill, a chill for which tea was utterly inadequate. "I actually wasn't planning to drink mine straight. I was planning to pour in enough top of the line cognac until I was—until I was three sheets to the wind," she confessed, her voice suddenly catching.

His head cocked a fraction to the side. "I already tried that with Scotch, but you know what? I tried and tried but I couldn't drink enough to knock myself out."

"Don't tell me you're going running like that? You sure have a hard head."

Zach grimaced. "Run? Stumble, most likely. My head is pounding."

"Well, I have aspirin. I could make coffee instead of tea," Kendall heard herself say. "Strong coffee."

In response his voice was hoarse and distrustful and suddenly cruel. "Who the fuck are you and what have you done with Kendall?"

Now they were returning to less unfamiliar territory. "If you don't want it just say so," she snapped.

His hand went to the back of his neck and massaged it. "Sorry. I'm not in good shape right now nor fit for human contact."

"No kidding you're not in good shape, Zach." Kendall softened her own voice. "I don't think you should try running right now. Stumbling?—good luck with that, too. More like falling flat on your face, you mean."

He shook his head a few times. Kendall realized it wasn't because he was disagreeing with her. He was trying to focus his eyes. This was absurd.

Finally, he replied, "I shouldn't really think you'd care."

She was beginning to feel quite exasperated. No good deed ever went unpunished, did it? "You know, Zach, I really don't. Just forget I said anything, and I'll do the same." She wondered if she could forget it, though…against her will, Zach reminded her so of a wounded lion with a thorn in his paw, only she was an unlikely Androcles. "It's cold out here and my hot water for tea is cooling off. I'm going back inside."

But Kendall didn't move and neither did he. The standoff lasted several more seconds. Then Zach gave a shrug and began to move stiffly away from her door toward the courtyard exit. The effort was half-hearted; before he had taken many more steps he stopped again. After a few more seconds passed by, he turned back toward her. "Kendall."

She waited with more patience than she normally demonstrated.

Rubbing his neck again, Zach said, "Maybe…maybe coffee's a good idea."

Without further comment—and with no small amount of ambivalence, but with a tiny, tiny involuntary gleam of relief in the blue eyes she averted from him—Kendall motioned Zach to enter her condo.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Kendall let Zach into her condo and, for the first time in a long time—maybe for the first time ever, given their contentious history—there was no hidden agenda on either side, none on hers for offering it, none on his for accepting it. Or at least not so either of them could tell, or muster up any indignation over if they could. The shared multi-barbed scourge of grief, guilt, and simple exhaustion had for the moment scrubbed away all but the most rudimentary self-protection mechanisms each normally had in place at the bare minimum.

The existing issues between them remained. But by tacit agreement akin to a spontaneous Christmas cease-fire in a war zone where common humanity superseded individual hatred neither Kendall nor Zach referred to their differences. Zach laid down his weapons when he entered beneath Kendall's white flag. That didn't mean things weren't awkward between them. If anything things were more awkward: There was no precedent whatsoever for this.

"Sit down, Zach. I'll, um, make the coffee…do you want to start with some tea while it's brewing?" she asked.

"Sure, why not."

With Zach leaning back against the sofa cushions with his eyes closed, Kendall prepared two mugs of tea. While the tea steeped she foraged for food to serve with it, for she had eaten very little recently and found that she was ravenous. Since she rarely ate meals at home unless Ethan shopped and cooked, the cupboards were mostly bare, but she turned up a box of low-fat fruit and cereal bars. Better than nothing to take the edge off and help absorb the alcohol in Zach's system, she'd supposed.

Carrying a tray holding mugs, plate of cereal bars, napkins, a couple of spoons, and the sugar bowl—which miraculously was half-full—over to Zach, Kendall cleared her throat, not too loudly. After all, if he was asleep, that would let her off the hook. His eyelids jerked open immediately, though, and he looked up at her in a somewhat bemused manner that unexpectedly made her flush.

"I made the tea really strong. Here." She placed the tray before him on cocktail table. "Help yourself." She began to return to the kitchen area to start the coffee.

"Are both mugs for me or are you going to have some?" Zach asked.

"I thought you wanted coffee?"

"Kendall, this is fine. Don't go to any more trouble for me."

Taking a mug and a cereal bar, she retreated to the easy chair facing the sofa. He'd swallowed most of his tea and polished off a whole bar before she'd even unwrapped her bar. This wasn't the first time she'd fed Zach, she reflected. He'd dropped in on her before, and in on her and Ethan, always in full manipulation mode, occasionally at mealtimes and as welcome as a bear at a picnic. But this was the first time she'd actually fed Zach of her own volition.

Ethan…! _What if Ethan comes in now and finds Zach here? He'll be absolutely livid_.

The thought, followed by the abrupt and painful realization Ethan would never do so, forced Kendall to stifle a sudden whimper. Knowing it had caught Zach's attention, she buried her nose in her mug, but she could feel the pull of his gaze. She was afraid to meet it. Rising from her chair she excused herself and went back to the kitchen, keeping her back to the living room. Bracing herself against the counter, Kendall tried to take some deep, calming breaths. Over the sound of her own breathing she felt, rather than heard, Zach come up behind her.

"The tea was nice," he said gruffly. "But I won't overstay my welcome. I wanted you to know I'm leaving."

_But I don't _want_ to be alone right now even if it's with you_. For a horrible moment Kendall thought she'd spoken the words aloud. She pushed away from the counter. "Don't leave yet," she said a little too brightly before scurrying off, "I haven't given you any aspirin yet. Wait here. It's in the bathroom."

In the bathroom Kendall shut the door, flipped the switch for the fan, and blew her nose. _For god's sake. Get a grip, Kendall, get a grip. And for god's sake why are you trying to keep Zach here when he wants to go. Even he must wonder what the hell is wrong with you. Oh my god, just look at you. _She'd caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and she wasn't a pretty sight. Her pale face was haggard, her hair was an uncombed mass of wild ringlets, and dark smudges underscored her eyes. Yet in a strange way, seeing her condition the way Zach was seeing it restored some equilibrium to Kendall—she looked so bedraggled that their early morning tête-à-tête couldn't possibly be misconstrued by _anyone_.

Half-expecting Zach to be gone by the time she finally emerged, Kendall found him still waiting in the kitchen where she'd left him. He certainly didn't present any better appearance than she did, at least from the neck up. His face was almost gray with fatigue; his hazel gaze, normally so purposeful and direct, projected a remote expression as if he were gazing into another dimension. From the neck down, however, only a dead woman could fail to notice he was a perfect specimen, his natural animal vitality a startling contrast to the otherworldliness in his eyes.

She brandished the bottle of aspirin like a trophy. "For your headache. I'll make more tea to go with it."

"Kendall, that isn't necessary."

"No, I mean it. Please." _It's official. Yep, write it down, sign it, date it, and have it notarized, Kendall. You've officially lost your mind. _"I mean, okay, it's up to you, Zach, but I thought you said your head was pounding."

"It's better. The tea already helped. I think I've put you to enough trouble."

"Look, it's okay." She took a deep breath, remembered the hypothetical waiting to be notarized statement, and added, "But geez, I'm not trying to keep you here if you don't want to stay."

"I know. Believe it or not I appreciate—"

Without warning a roaring wind suddenly clobbered the window above the kitchen sink, launching a barrage of precipitation against it. Both of their heads swiveled in its direction.

"Listen to that," Kendall shuddered. "I didn't know they were calling for rain."

Zach pushed the blind aside and stared out, but the sky was still dark. "From the noise it's making as it hits the ground, I'd say it's sleet, not rain."

"You really don't want to go running in that stuff, then. Sleet's even slipperier than sn—" S_now_, she'd begun to say and couldn't finish. Snow, like on a Colorado mountaintop. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she turned away again, unable this time to stop tears from welling.

A large, warm hand settled on each of her shoulders, a quiet "It's only a cold front passing through. Come on," whispered behind her, close enough to almost tickle her ear.

Kendall allowed Zach to guide her back to her chair and lightly push her into it. Gathering one of the cotton throws from the back of the sofa, he laid it over her, and she experienced a moment of _déjà vu_. _Why does this seem so familiar?_ she wondered, and then she had it. _Because he covered you up once before today, I mean yesterday. With his jacket._ But this cover-up had a far less grudging attitude to it, somehow, and the chair was far more comfortable than the floor. Kendall's agitation grew less acute and her eyes closed. She was just so tired. The wind howling at the window, the driving rain, began to seem distant.

Close by, noises came from the kitchen. Running water, cabinets opening and closing, china rattling. Kendall jumped slightly when the tea kettle whistled again. Its whistle immediately cut off and she began to relax again. Footsteps, bottle popping open, liquid pouring…soothing, fragrant steam wafting beneath her nose, suddenly making her inhale. Zach's deep voice again. "Take this. Don't drop it."

His large h ands again, lifting her own from her lap and placing them securely around a warm smooth curved surface…she opened her eyes to see them wrapped around her tea mug, refilled with something that, judging from its aroma, was something more complex and mellow than ordinary Twinings' Prince of Wales tea. Kendall looked at him inquiringly.

"It's just more tea, spiked with your cognac—with Ethan's Courvoisier. Not too much," he explained.

Her gaze lowered to the mug, than back to Zach's face. Shaking her head, she said, "I'm already back on the wagon, Zach. Drinking alone when you're by _yourself_ is one thing, but not when…."

"Kendall, I'm not trying to get you drunk. I told you I didn't put in much. It's for medicinal purposes only. And I'm having some too, by the way."

"Well…okay, I guess. It…it does smell good." She lifted the mug to her lips.

Putting a light restraining hand on hers, Zach said, "Wait. I thought we might share a toast first."

Over the mug's rim Kendall's blue eyes were anxious and wide. "A _toast_? Zach, are you crazy?"

In response, Zach produced his own steaming mug. Clicking it against hers, he said simply, "To Ethan."

"T–to Ethan," she repeated, joining the toast somewhat uncertainly. The sleepless night alone was really catching up with her, the warring emotions taking their relentless toll, now the surprisingly sensitive, almost delicate gesture from Zach of all people…was it reciprocation for taking him in as she had, some kind of a peace offering…or what? Or was it Zach mocking Ethan after all, mocking her too for being lulled into a false sense of complacency about him? Ethan had hated Zach so intemperately, now Ethan was gone and Zach was here almost in his place—consuming Ethan's prized liqueur in an ostensible tribute to Ethan himself, which Ethan would have rejected as an outrage and surely Zach must have realized that?

Kendall sipped her drink slowly. A fresh volley of pessimism hit her. Really, what was the point of raising questions about anything, when you ultimately had so little power over the outcome anyway? She had spent so much time and energy hating Zach and believing—or wanting to believe, which in her case was the same thing—he was a killer, among other things. But tonight, or rather this morning, she'd sought even his company as an escape from her own. When she couldn't even begin to understand something as immediate as her own self, how she was supposed to decipher whether Zach was truly evil or whether he was just misunderstood?

Zach's mug apparently held a larger proportion of "medicine" to hot tea than hers, or else he had a fireproof throat, for he tipped his own drink with abandon. When he put down his empty mug, Kendall thought she noticed tears in his eyes. Tears caused by the subject of the toast, by the potency of the cognac, or by the heat of its temperature? Or did she just keep trying to think too much with a brain seriously malfunctioning from fatigue?

She yawned.

"Had enough?" Zach asked.

"I think so. I think I'm just going to…doze." Kendall yawned again. He rescued her mug before it slipped from her hand and polished off what was left in it.

If anyone had suggested to Zach not too many hours before that not only would Kendall ever bother to spit on him if she tripped over his blazing carcass, but that he would do the same if he tripped over hers, he would have scoffed mightily. Attempting to connect with Kendall on a non-adversarial level always seemed about as constructive as nailing Jell-o to the wall and twice as frustrating, so the last thing he expected was this respite from it. Maybe the borderlands between night and day they currently found themselves in made that inevitable, though. Sharing the wee small hours with another hurting, lost, lonely soul virtually compelled a change in perspective… at least until gray light seeped in and began to renew the fighting spirit.

Outside the sleet continued its heavy tattoo on the roof and windows. Sleet was usually short-lived but home was only a short distance away_. Make a run for it. Leave now_, Zach told himself.

Kendall was breathing softly. At home there would be only silence louder than usual and sleet didn't count.

_You know what? Fuck it_. _Let the weather clear up first._ Decanting a little more cognac into his cup and mentally saluting Ethan, Zach folded himself back onto Kendall's sofa and made himself comfortable.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

_Rap rap rap. Rap rap rap. Rap rap rap._

The racket refused to stop. Under protest, Kendall emerged from a deep and unsatisfying sleep, reached for a pillow to jam over her head, and discovered there wasn't one. Nor were there her usual soft as silk cotton sheets and voluminous comforter billowing around her. Instead she was pulling the inadequate woven throw from the sofa up to her chin, leaving her bare feet exposed. Her feet, which should have been supported by memory foam, were resting against the cold hardwood floor. _Huh_? For some reason, she wasn't lying down. She was sitting up.

Untangling herself from the throw, Kendall groggily opened her eyes. No wonder. Instead of being in her bed in her bedroom; she was in her easy chair in the living room. And at first she had no recollection why.

_Rap rap rap. Rap rap rap. Rap rap rap._

The origin of the noise could now be identified, though. Someone was knocking on the door. She grabbed for her robe, realized she already wore it, and lurched from the chair. Directly in her path stood the sofa and as she detoured around it, Kendall realized something was lying on it. A long something. A _big_ something. Not something, some_one_, someone alive and starting to move. Stretching and groaning. She stared in dumbfounded fascination. _What the hell? Did somebody stay here last night? _The someone's back was to her._ Some_one_ and in his _underwear_, it looks like?_

In one abrupt motion the someone suddenly rolled over and sat straight up, facing her and taking up enough of the space between them to make her step back without thinking. "Zach?" she gasped in shock.

_Rap rap rap. Rap rap rap. Rap rap rap._

"Someone's at the door." His voice was raspy from interrupted sleep. "You'd better get it."

"But what are—"

"_Get it_ or I will. It must be important!"

"But what are you doing here?"

"You don't remember? You offered me tea and…I guess we offered each other sympathy. Christ, not that kind," Zach added impatiently when she gasped again. "We had a little cognac. Must have been more than I thought. Doesn't matter now." He combed his fingers through his tousled hair.

It began to come flooding back to Kendall. "We did? Oh my god, Zach, I forgot. What time is it?"

"We'll talk about it later if you want. I don't know the time. Will you just answer the door?"

Glancing at it fearfully, remembering the purpose of the last visitor before Zach—Police Chief Derek Frye—the night before, Kendall shivered and looked at Zach. "What if it's Derek again? It must be—no one called from the guard's office or if they did I slept through it. Will you get the door, Zach? Please?"

His impatient expression softened. "Sure."

When Zach rose to his feet, Kendall saw in relief that even though there wasn't really any appreciable difference between the amounts of their coverage, he was wearing running shorts and a tank top, not boxers and a t-shirt. That was right, he was about to go for a run when she'd interrupted him. Their middle-of-the-night encounter seemed all the more dream-like now in the light of day. Zach's continued presence had caught her completely by surprise and even more surprising, Kendall was glad of it. As the knocking went on, her feet felt rooted to the floor.

Hugging herself in preparation for more bad news, Kendall moved out of his way as Zach went to the door and threw it wide open, to be met by a snarling, "_What in the goddamn hell are you doing here, Slater?_"

Coming up behind and quickly peering around Zach, Kendall's heart soared that her visitor wasn't Derek, but sank when she saw who it was. "J.R.," she said weakly. "What are you doing here? How did you get through the guard station? I wasn't expecting you. Or—or was I? So much has happened I can't—"

Rudely, J.R. pushed past Zach and her both. Once in the room, he thrust a large, handled sack bearing the Serving Spoon logo at Kendall. "Here you go. The guard used to work at Chandler Enterprises and let me in. I thought I'd be nice and surprise you with some breakfast."

When Kendall fumbled for the heavy sack, her robe, its tie, loosened by her restless night, fell open. J.R. ogled her, took in Zach's lack of clothing, and sneered, "Too bad I didn't know you were already entertaining. I only brought breakfast for two, not three. But the joke was on me, huh?—I'd say you've already eaten anyway."

"J.R., for god's sake, if you're getting at what I think you're getting at, you couldn't be more wrong!" Kendall cried.

"More wrong, or more offensive," Zach growled. "But then, he's never been required to be either smart or courteous."

"Shut your fucking mouth, Slater!" J.R. seethed.

Really, this was too much, Kendall thought wildly—she was barely holding it together herself, now she had two men brimming with testosterone to deal with and, if the way they were sizing each other up was any indication, they weren't averse to coming to blows. "Please! I really don't need this!" she declared. "J.R., what's the matter with you showing up like this? My god, Ethan—Ethan isn't even gone for a _day_ and you're already trying to move in on him?"

As soon as the tactless words left her lips, Kendall wished she could recall them. Normally, she considered J.R. Chandler a friend and ally, for his powerful father Adam could be as unreasonable, scheming, and determined to force his will on J.R. as Erica had historically been with her. Yet, unlike her dynamic with Erica, J.R. had been very much spoiled his entire life by Adam. In recent months J.R. and Ethan had become colleagues, as Adam's and J.R.'s company Chandler Enterprises had been absorbed in an unfriendly merger with Cambias Industries prior to Ethan taking the reins at Cambias. A friendship of sorts had developed between the two young scions, but J.R. had never hid his attraction to Kendall. Still, Kendall was sure even J.R. couldn't be so uncouth as to do what she'd practically accused him of doing—initiating a campaign to win her before Ethan was even resting in the grave.

"I'm sorry, J.R.," she hastily apologized. "But I didn't ask you to come and you didn't warn me. Zach just lives across the way so he—he just drops by. I'm already upset enough about everything and you are _not_ helping."

"Yeah, Kendall, I can see for myself just how upset you are about poor Ethan," J.R. sneered again. "Too upset to bother to get dressed when Ethan's doting daddy drops by half-naked himself on a condolence call. And you're pointing the finger at _me_? The real question, Kendall, is just who _Slater_ is doting on, and I think we all already know the answer to that one."

"Why are you attacking _me_? I apologized to you, J.R.!" Kendall began, at the same time Zach, who had been standing behind J.R. exuding enough menace to crush, via telekinesis, a less thick-skinned man, said quietly in concert with the second half of her statement, "Kendall apologized to you, Junior."

J.R. whirled around. "Mind your own business, Slater. In fact, go take a hike, loser. Leave Kendall and me the hell alone—you know, the way you left Ethan alone until you felt like screwing him over. Ethan was my _friend_, and I know exactly how much you cared about him. Whatever reason you're using to harass Kendall is bogus."

"You know nothing about me, Junior. I realize you're spoiling for a fight. Sorry to disappoint you."

J.R.'s already narrowed eyes narrowed to slits. "Yeah? Are you sure about that, Slater?"

"J.R.!" Kendall interjected. "Your breakfast is getting cold. Here! Take it. Take it home with you or throw it away, I don't care, just get it out of here with yourself following right behind it—and please don't bother coming back until you can be civil." She thrust the sack of food back at him, but he lifted his hands and refused to take it. The sack dropped to the floor with a thud and a splash. Muffins, croissants, and servings of butter and honey burst forth, and coffee and orange juice spewed out from dislodged lids of overturned Styrofoam cups.

"Oops," J.R. said, making a show of standing away from the mess on the floor. "Sorry. Enjoy your breakfast, Kendall. Guess it's more of a picnic, now."

The world had been topsy-turvy enough overnight…was it _never_ going to right itself? Kendall couldn't believe she was not just fighting with J.R., but fighting with him in front of Zach, with whom she was not only still not fighting, but whom she was actually hoping wouldn't leave before J.R. did. She was already so angry with J.R.'s ridiculously jealous, childish behavior that her tongue was nearly sawed in half, and now this mess she was staring at on the floor…she was very afraid she was about to start crying, and once she got started she would _not _be able to stop.

"Go in and take your shower now, Kendall," Zach said suddenly. "Junior and I will clean this up."

"If that's supposed to mean me, the fuck I will!" J.R. laughed unpleasantly. "Besides, three's a crowd, and all that. Gotta run."

The lethal glare of Zach's hazel eyes boring into J.R.'s overweening blue ones was enough to give Kendall pause once removed. She'd seen that look once before, on an afternoon months ago when she and Ethan were in Zach's casino office, and Zach was reaming out Paul Cramer, the MedEvac pilot who'd crashed the helicopter flying Bianca and Babe and their babies to safety—oh, _shit_! Another plane crash! Why did she have to think of that? She _was_ going to cry. Let the two men either clean up or wreck the place. Kendall flew to the bathroom, locked herself in, and turned on the water full-blast.

"You're responsible for the mess, you clean it up. It's that simple," Zach told J.R. "Because you know what? You don't expect somebody else to clean it up for you. Unless that's what you pay them to do."

J.R. blinked insolently. "Well, what do you know, Slater? I don't see any of the maids around. Unless you're moonlighting?"

"No maids. No butlers. Just you. Get moving." Zach continued to glare. The menace Kendall had noted became even more pronounced. "The cleaning supplies are probably in the kitchen. Go find them."

"You're kidding, right? Come on, you can cut the act, Slater. It didn't work with Ethan, you think it's going to work with me? Besides, Kendall's gone. She's not watching now, y'know?"

Zach stepped forward. His voice dipped several notes lower, and his height seemed to be increasing proportionately. "I said, get moving. _Now_, Junior."

Unwillingly, J.R. stepped back. They continued the dance until they were in the kitchen. Zach was actually enjoying himself. He had met many J.R.'s in his day, privileged, pampered men who'd either grown up having it easy or who'd ended up that way through some dishonest means or through a lucky, unearned roll-of-the dice, men who never expected to, and _were_ never expected to, clean up their own messes, no matter how big or how small…Zach despised such irresponsible men. There was no limit to the havoc they carelessly wreaked and then thoughtlessly walked away from; never bothering to look back…the consequences were always someone else's problem. He'd learned that his brother Michael had been that way, and it was one of the fates he'd foreseen and feared most for Ethan.

"You're nuts, Slater…I don't know where Kendall keeps anything…I've never seen her lift a finger to clean…," J.R. was starting to babble.

"Most likely you won't find cleaning supplies in the refrigerator or the pantry. If you set your mind to it, you can figure it out it by more process of elimination. Hurry up. I haven't got all day." Zach crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the younger man.

There was no way out for J.R. now. If he broke away and made a run for it, he ended up looking like a more pitiful coward than if he stayed and worked. Zach knew it, and he knew J.R. knew he knew it. Zach also knew J.R. didn't care what Zach thought of him, but J.R.—or rather, his pride—did care about what Kendall thought. Running out would ultimately not work to his advantage.

Under Zach's baleful gaze, J.R. located the broom closet. As he removed a mop and bucket, and filled the bucket at the kitchen sink, his overt hatred of Zach came close to making the water sizzle. Zach also knew that J.R. was fantasizing heaving the bucketful of water straight at him, but that J.R. lacked the necessary balls to provoke a physical fight with an opponent of greater size and stealth. No, J.R. would only pick on someone weaker than himself…someone who wouldn't or couldn't fight back.

J.R. carried the mop and bucket back to the living room. Deciding to lend a hand, not so much as to make things easier for J.R. but to speed up the process, Zach carried the kitchen trash bin out to him. "You'll need this first," he commented blandly, placing it on the floor beside the dumped food.

J.R. was no longer exchanging barbed glances with Zach. He wasn't looking at Zach at all. Grunting, he stooped and gathered up the solid trash. When the floor was cleared of all except the spilled liquids, J.R. jammed the mop in the bucket, struggled over squeezing out the excess water, and sloppily applied the wet mop to the floor, swiping it back and forth a few times until the coffee and orange juice were mostly wiped up. The floor was still not exactly clean, but Zach knew that he had made his point.

Continuing to observe J.R.'s extraordinarily unenthusiastic efforts, Zach mulled over in his mind what he knew about the kid. It was no secret that J.R. had actually worked on a merchant ship after leaving high school; therefore he couldn't be a stranger to such lowly labor, not when he'd been outnumbered by a crew of toughened, unimpressed-by-the-Chandler-name sailors during the one uncharacteristic phase of his life J.R. hadn't been able to trade on his name. J.R.'s current performance was simply to indicate to Zach how above such work he was now he was back in the Chandler fold.

Finally, J.R. returned the cleaning tools to the kitchen, dumped out the bucket in the sink, and replaced it and the mop in the broom closet. When he came back to the living room, Zach cocked his head at the full trash bin beside his foot. Again, Zach sensed that J.R. would have sold his soul to have been able to lob the trash bin at his chest or someplace where it might do more damage. But he didn't dare. Instead, the younger, smaller, steaming man took the bin back into the kitchen.

"You goddamn arrogant bastard," J.R. spat upon his return. "Think you're such a big man, huh, Slater? But you're not. You don't know who you're fucking with. You'll see. _I won't forget this_."

Zach was hard-pressed to keep from smiling—but if he had it would not have been an agreeable smile. More lightly than he felt, he replied, "Neither will I, Junior. Oh, neither will I."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

Following the path of least resistance, conserving her depleted energy for what already promised—or more accurately, threatened—to be a hellacious day, Kendall simply towel-dried her hair and pulled it back, applied the lightest of makeup, and dressed casually once again in slacks and a simple top. While showering and dressing, she had tried to forget Zach and J.R., tried to clear her mind of anything except a prayer her family was still alive and would be found soon…but she kept getting tripped up by little things. Ethan's towels and toiletries lined up beside hers in the bathroom, his shirts and suits hanging in her closet.

She kept pausing to caress and inhale and reminisce…yet despite these solid reminders, the memories of Ethan they evoked were so frustratingly tenuous and ephemeral. It was as if the material objects he'd left behind, the sophisticated high-fashion clothes, the expensive colognes and aftershave lotions, all the proper selection, acquisition, and flaunting of which had been so important to him, possessed more genuine substance than Ethan himself ever head. Indeed, rather than giving the impression of having been owned by Ethan, they gave Kendall the sense that he'd been owned by _them_…where was the real Ethan in all this? Had there even been one beneath the hardening shell of his desire for display, for status, for accumulation?

If so, there didn't seem to be any evidence of it here among these blank, inanimate things he had reveled in being able to buy. Ethan had loved them, but to Kendall they were only symptomatic of the heedless greed that had already begun to take Ethan away from her before the plane crash. In reaching out to them, she found that his memory couldn't be sustained through them in any meaningful way. It slid away elusively at her approach…she could grasp at it but couldn't seem to hold it.

Given her lack of restful sleep and adequate nourishment recently, piled on top of her intense worry and grief, though, Kendall tried to tell herself she was too close to running on empty to feel connected to anything. She was lucky to even be functioning at all. This emotional detachment could even a good thing, a form of self-protection temporarily cushioning the impact of her loss…yet humbly bowing to fate wasn't the way Kendall normally reacted to disaster.

Was it because she felt guilty? Not just the natural human guilt inherent in praying harder for the rest of her family's survival than for the repose of dead Ethan's soul, but because the last person on the face of the planet—no, in the solar system—no, make that the entire universe—she'd ever expected to get a boost from had decided to help prop her up? No doubt about it, his father's presence in this tragic drama would have made Ethan writhe in fury, followed by full-scale retaliation.

_Okay, Ethan, we need to put this in perspective. Just because Zach's been sort of decent to me and I've been sort of decent to him for a couple of hours doesn't here mean he and I are friends. It means we're both mourning you and we can't mourn and fight at the same time. You know I would blame Zach for this if I could, but I…I do think I was wrong about that. He's really devastated and isn't that really what you would want? And it's not like I'm rushing to tell _him _that. So why don't you feel any closer to me, Ethan? Why do you feel so far, far away?_

There were no answers, just the feeling she was being mocked for her inability to find them even if there were….

Reappearing in the living room at last, Kendall found all traces of J.R. and his breakfast gone and Zach lounging on the sofa, one knee crossed over the other. She looked at him inquiringly.

Zach's gathered himself together and stood up. "Junior cleaned your floor before leaving for another pressing appointment."

Kendall's lips curved into an involuntary smile. "You must have scared the shit out of J.R."

"Impossible."

Her lips curved again before she clamped down on them.

"One more thing, Kendall. Perhaps being the target of Junior's—J.R.'s—little power play just now can help you understand what motivated me with Ethan. Why I might want to, why I might try to, intervene before he turned into another J.R. Or perhaps you can't, because Ethan wasn't that way with you. Either way—that's why."

"Are you saying it matters to you what I think?" Kendall asked curiously.

His vocal inflection was hard to decipher. "It doesn't not matter to me."

"Do I take that as a 'yes,' as a 'no,' or as a 'maybe,' Zach? Do you think you could be less enigmatic for once?" Kendall asked candidly.

He hesitated. "Kendall, Ethan hated me and loved you. I can no longer seek absolution from him, and I cannot place any burden from my failure on you. But what you think always matters."

"Zach, I said _less_ enigmatic," she sighed.

"Take it as a yes," he conceded.

The somewhat reluctant concession moved Kendall more than she cared to examine or show. "Whatever was between you and Ethan and was between you and him, Zach. You don't need my blessing."

"No. Doesn't mean I wouldn't prefer it to your condemnation, but my preferences aren't the issue," he shrugged.

"Yeah, well…it doesn't mean I wouldn't, either," she owned.

The dark shadow over his brow almost imperceptibly brightened. "Kendall, last night I sincerely meant it when I said Ethan was lucky to have you." This from Zach sounded less reluctant, more straightforward…but no easier for Kendall to hear the second time.

"Maybe Ethan shouldn't have loved _me_ either," she replied in a low voice where the words sounded wrung from her. "Maybe he shouldn't, because I didn't always think he was right, and I didn't always support him. For one thing, I was very upset when he stopped construction on the Miranda Center."

Zach said, "I know."

But the mention of Miranda's name acted as air brakes on the slowly lumbering train they rode, and put a stop to any traction it was managing to gain. The temporary ceasefire over Ethan's death had put Miranda, and Zach's intentions toward her, to the back of Kendall's mind…now they advanced toward her again, threatening to derail this fragile moment. Tackling Zach on the subject of Miranda's custody was urgent, more urgent than ever. Kendall had just one more question about Ethan for him first, a question she dreaded to ask. "Zach, have you decided on funeral plans for Ethan?"

Zach shook his head slightly. "You weren't in the room last night when Derek explained the process. Ethan probably won't be released for a day or two. After that…I don't know what Ethan would have liked. If you have any suggestions I'd like to hear them before I decide."

"Released?" she repeated, confused.

"From the State Medical Examiner's office in Colorado. That was where they took him."

"Oh." Kendall found it difficult to meet Zach's gaze. "Will you go out there to…get him? Bring him home?"

Zach had begun to pace a little. "I'll be looking into the necessary arrangements today."

"In a day or two…in a day or two, maybe they'll find Bianca. And Erica. And Jack. Do you think they will, Zach? Do you think it'll be…the—the same way they found Ethan?"

He stopped and looked at her. "I don't know, Kendall. I don't know. But I think it's wise to be prepared."

Then I may be going out there too. One way or the other." Kendall shuddered and turned away, not wanting him to see the tears suddenly brimming in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I can't talk about Ethan—about this—right now. Can we talk about it later?"

"All right. Derek suggested I contact a funeral home. Once I know all the options I'll ask for your input if I may."

She was able to nod.

"If you'll excuse me now, Kendall—I have that, and other, things to do," Zach said somberly. "I expect there'll be a phalanx of reporters waiting at both gates. I don't plan to stop on my way and give them a statement. Will you need another escort for that toy car of yours?"

"I don't know, Zach, I feel so shaky I don't know if I should even get behind the wheel. I can't just stay cooped up in here all day, though—I'll go crazy. How soon are you leaving?"

"In a half hour or so, when I'm showered and dressed. May I give you a lift anywhere then?"

The offer was tempting—so tempting. The more she leaned on Zach, the easier it got, Kendall realized uneasily. Again, she felt guilty, knowing how heatedly Ethan would have objected. _But Zach's here and you're not, Ethan. You're not. Don't worry, my leaning on Zach is probably going to end up backfiring on me big-time, just like everything always does. But I'll worry about that happening later. I just can't think about it now._

"Kendall, did you hear me?" Zach prodded gently. "A lift somewhere? To Myrtle's? Or to Greenlee's?"

_Greenlee's_…. "Miranda!" Kendall burst out. "Zach, this can't wait." To reinforce her point, she moved to stand between him and the door. "We never had a chance to finish yesterday, and we need to talk about Miranda—you're not going anywhere until we do. You can't leave me high and dry."

"I have no intention of doing that, Kendall. I told you that yesterday."

"I know that's what you said before we went to Greenlee's. But while we were there you started sounding like you were changing your tune. Don't blindside me, Zach. I need to know exactly what you are planning to do, when—if—if Miranda's custody becomes an issue."

"No plans," he replied simply, "beyond what Bianca would want or at the least permit. I believe she'd want you to have custody of Miranda, and I also believe she'd permit me to see her from time to time."

"Is that really all you want, Zach?" Kendall asked, unable to keep uncertainty from her voice. "Just to see Miranda from time to time? I mean, you showed up at Greenlee's with expensive presents, like—like you're currying favor with her already."

Zach's eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. "I haven't had the pleasure of buying many baby presents. Do you begrudge me that?"

"No. No, of course not, but it makes me nervous," Kendall admitted. "Especially now. Do you begrudge _me_ that?"

"You know what, Kendall, let's not make this a grudge match at all. Hopefully Bianca would have left written instructions that spell out both our rights. If not, in deference to Bianca I'm more than willing to support as well as take my cue from you. What I'm not willing to do is be shut out of my niece's life altogether."

Kendall found herself shivering again. On its surface Zach's firm declaration wasn't unreasonable. He didn't know, except by inference, that her very vocal suspicions about him ever wishing to harm Ethan had been allayed and that because of it, theoretically, at least, Kendall no longer had a very compelling reason to suspect him of wishing to harm Miranda either, and therefore to keep them apart. He didn't know Kendall agreed in principle that Bianca would not have forbidden Zach some access to Miranda. He didn't know there was absolutely no reason now why Kendall, in pressing him to support her, shouldn't have put his own mind at ease at the same time.

_Why can't I?_ Kendall asked herself. Was it only because it felt like a betrayal of Ethan? Was the habit of considering Zach her enemy, of not trusting him, too engrained? Or was it also because, as Miranda's mother, Bianca was irrevocably in the cat bird's seat, where no lesser relative could rightfully threaten her position…while she, Kendall, was only Miranda's aunt? As Miranda's uncle, Zach's status was exactly equal to hers. She probably couldn't shut him out of Miranda's life even if she tried; especially not when she and Zach both tacitly acknowledged Kendall needed him if Greenlee should take it into her head to try to shut _Kendall_ out.

She knew Zach was waiting rather impatiently for her to respond, but she still didn't know what to say.

She was the one who'd seen Bianca through her pregnancy, she was the one who'd tried to take the rap Bianca's murder of Miranda's father, the unspeakable Michael Cambias, she was the one who'd comforted Bianca through the thankfully only temporary loss of Miranda…sure, Zach was Michael's less unspeakable brother, but even if he'd come into their lives wearing shining silver armor and riding on a noble white steed instead of skulking as he had, it still wasn't _fair _for Zach to assume that gave him a standing from which to issue ultimatums. It wasn't _fair_ for her to have to need his support. But that was the bottom line.

Finally Kendall took a deep breath said, "Deal. I will go by whatever Bianca wants too. Since we _do_ both agree what that is."

"Now that's cleared up, I'll be going." Zach's expression had returned to one of unreadable imperturbability. "If you'll move from the door. And again—if I may drop you anywhere?"

Stepping aside from the door, Kendall said, "I suppose I'd better go beard the mama lioness in her den. Would you still take me to Greenlee's?"

"You got it," Zach said.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

_Damn it, J.R. Why did you have to ruin that food? I'm hungry_! Kendall couldn't help but think after Zach left. _Oh, well, maybe Greenlee can feed me in between whipping up gourmet baby food for Miranda! Except I can't stand carrots unless they're in cake loaded with cream cheese frosting. _Rummaging in the refrigerator, she could find nothing more edible than a carton of vanilla yogurt. Which, when she tasted it, was far less appetizing that a warm buttered croissant dripping with honey would have been. After taking a few sour bites, she went about straightening sofa cushions and refolding afghans, to be interrupted by another rap at the door.

"That was fast," Kendall commented in surprise, expecting to be greeting Zach. Instead, J.R. stood there.

"Fast? Are you kidding? I thought he'd never leave," J.R. retorted.

"No, I meant—never mind. What you are doing here again, J.R.? Looking for a reference for the Chandler family cleaning service? Forget it, you didn't do that great of a job on my floor. The windows need washing, though, if you want to give that a try—"

"Ha ha, very funny, _not_, Kendall. Now are you going to let me in or not?"

"That depends. What did you want this time?"

J.R. gave her his most ingratiating smile. "I waited until Zach left so I could come back to apologize to you."

Frowning, Kendall replied, "Well, make it quick. I'm going out in a little while."

Once inside, he continued in the same ingratiating vein, "I admit it, I was out of line before, Kendall. I was just so honestly shocked that Slater, of all people, was here this morning that certain words I regret came out of my mouth before I could stop them."

"Oh, and of course the first words that _naturally_ sprang to your lips accused me of trading Ethan in for Zach already," she replied acidly.

"I shouldn't have said those things, but you know how I feel about you, Kendall," J.R. pleaded. "Ethan was my friend, too. Zach Slater is a piece of shit, he's treated you like shit, he treated Ethan like shit, and he brings out the worst in everyone he meets, including me."

This was such a sweeping denunciation that Kendall found herself in the unfamiliar position of defending Zach. "So what? He's actually been pretty civilized lately, J.R. Don't blame him just because you have a rotten temper."

"Don't be taken in by his bull, Kendall, and that's all it is, believe. Listen to me. Slater's playing you. If he's nice to you, it's because he wants something."

"And you don't, J.R.?" she asked skeptically. "Oh, that's right, you showed up with _breakfast_. Takes one to know one, huh?"

"Kendall, this is a terrible time for both of us. I just wanted to be alone with you, help comfort you if I could. Reminisce, just the two of us, about Ethan a little, and share positive thoughts about Bianca and Erica. If anyone would have been here with you I'd have thought it would be Miranda."

"Miranda's with Greenlee," Kendall said shortly.

"And so I come to find _Slater_ instead. I admit it—that just pushed me over the edge."

"Over the edge into insulting me in the worse possible way." Folding her arms across her chest, Kendall asked, "And that's Zach's fault again how?"

J.R. took a deep breath. "What more can I say, Kendall, except I'm sorry and upset, and I guess that just makes me keep putting my foot in my mouth."

"And here I thought that was because you have a taste for expensive leather."

"It's _you_ I like, Kendall." J.R.'s voice became even more plaintive. "That's the only reason I'm here. Look, I came back. Doesn't that prove how sorry I am? Can't we back up and start over?"

The young man had all the right moves, Kendall had to give him that. The limpid puppy dog eyes, the deeply sincere, slightly gruff, voice, the sad little mouth, the self-effacing manner. The problem was she had known him for too long and seen him in action too many times. In the interest of removing himself from any self-inflicted jam, J.R. was as likely to perform this polished act for a total stranger he was trying to dupe—say, a hardworking cop who pulled him over for a traffic violation—whom he would subsequently persuade his father to pull a few strings and have suspended, if not dismissed, from the police force—as he was for a supposed friend such as herself.

Ordinarily Kendall was too self-aware to fail to relate to such scorched earth tactics…but her nerves had been rubbed too raw for humoring, much less being magnanimous with, J.R. "_No_. It doesn't prove anything except you're trying to wiggle off the hook. And time's up. Guess what? You're still on it."

Being so unequivocally rebuffed appeared to genuinely surprise him. "But Kendall, there must be something I can do or say to make it up to you. Whatever it takes, I'll do it—I'll say it, anything, anything, to get back in your good graces. Come on, I'm _sorry_!—look at me, I'm _groveling_ here."

Genuinely surprising herself as well, Kendall found herself thinking,_ Like groveling's supposed to impress me? God, I'd rather deal with a foe like Zach than a "friend" like you_—and then was relieved she didn't say it. Aloud, she said, "Sorry yourself, J.R. Think about what you said to me before, and then ask yourself why the hell I should forgive you even if you groveled to me over burning coals. But think about it someplace else. I don't want to look at your face any more today."

"Aw, Kendall…is that your final answer?"

Pointing to the door, Kendall said, "Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner. Now get out of here, J.R., and don't come back until you can stop acting like an asshole. Oh and by the way? I won't hold my breath."

J.R. sighed noisily and held up his hands. "Okay, okay. I had to give it my best shot. Please don't ever say I didn't give you a second chance."

"Give me a _second_ chance? Like you're ever entitled to expect me to jump when you say how high?" she scoffed.

His boyish face assumed a spuriously benign expression and his voice sounded the same way he looked. "Well, Kendall…when you put it like that, I suppose you're right. That does seem to be Slater's job, now poor Ethan's cold in his grave, doesn't it?"

Kendall reached over to the sofa, grabbed one of the pillows she'd just rearranged. "_Leave_! Just get out."

"All right, all right, Kendall, I'm going." He went to the doorway, delivering a parting shot on his way out. "But once I'm gone remember this. You met my peace-making mission with hostility. Any more olive branch extending will be done by you and not me."

"And you know exactly what you can do with the olive branch, you prick!" she fumed, throwing the pillow at the closing door. Then she threw herself down on the sofa, grabbed another one, starting pounding it, and sobbed. _Damn J.R. for being such a _nasty_ little prick at a time like this, damn Zach for being here the first time and for not being here this time and just for jerking me around in general, damn Ethan for going off and dying and leaving me so conflicted and taking my family with him…damn them all, every last one of them…._

But the tempest passed quickly because Kendall didn't have the energy to maintain it. Rolling over on her back, she stared at the ceiling, wondering if maybe, just maybe, if she could have gone back forty-eight hours in time, and done even one thing differently from the way she'd already done it, she could have possibly changed this outcome. She was still lying there when Zach returned to pick her up for the trip to the Laverys' apartment. Not wanting him to witness her having yet another breakdown, she ran to the bathroom, dragged a brush through her hair, and blotted her face.

The short drive was accomplished mostly in silence. Wearing an impeccably tailored gray suit like a coat of chain mail, Zach seemed forbidding and uncommunicative, as sunk in his own thoughts as Kendall was in hers. Although the level of animosity on both sides was significantly toned down from the previous day, Kendall sensed a wall between them that neither showed any real interest in crossing. Still, Zach providing her with the lift spoke for itself…it was a solicitous gesture, a gesture even more welcome to Kendall after J.R.'s second intrusion had thrown her for a bigger loop than the one she was already nonstop circling in.

While driving, Zach looked straight ahead with a scowl on his face visible even in profile; he often seemed unaware she was even riding in the same vehicle with him, yet his reserve didn't feel particularly personal.

When they arrived at their destination, Zach found a parking place around the corner from the Laverys' apartment building. In a move Kendall didn't anticipate, he climbed out of his side of the SUV and came around to open her door, then locked it behind her.

"I didn't know you were planning to go in with me, Zach. I thought you were just going to drop me off."

"Is this a problem, Kendall?"

All of a sudden it did feel a little personal. "It's Greenlee's house, not mine. I was just saying."

"Right. And if I drop you off, you're stuck here," he pointed out.

"I'm stuck here either way, Zach. But it's not a big deal. If Greenlee or Ryan can't take me home later, I'll call a cab."

"That's unnecessary, Kendall. Consider this is a round trip, unless you'd prefer another means of transportation?"

Kendall felt her cheeks flush. "I don't expect you to chauffeur me around."

"I know. I'm choosing to. Just," Zach said, "as it's up to you to choose whether to accept."

"I–I guess we can play it by ear." She tried to inject some graciousness into her voice. It wasn't that she wasn't grateful. It was just that Zach's murky motivations made it impossible to decide whether she should be grateful or go on high alert. Was he truly being chivalrous? Or was it all a charade to ensure that he spent as much time with Miranda as she did?

"Oh, my god." Of its own volition, Kendall's hand suddenly poked at Zach's forearm as they rounded the corner and she spotted a highly conspicuous car in the handicapped parking space right in front of the apartment entrance. But the perfectly restored little 1957 red Corvette with the white cove didn't even make a pretense of sporting handicapped license plates or a tag hanging from its rearview mirror beneath its ragtop roof. "That's J.R.'s car!" she gasped.

"Nice wheels," Zach remarked with typical succinctness.

"I know, but why here? What's he _doing_ at Greenlee's? He never mentioned it and I really don't want to see him again today!" Kendall was beginning to feel trapped.

"Calm down, Kendall. I doubt he's particularly eager to face you either."

"Zach, you don't understand. J.R. came back to see me after you left. We really got into it, and I threw him out again."

"Did you? I regret missing that."

"It wasn't funny, Zach."

Zach cocked his head in a way that could have been taken to mean he was up to something. Pulling his cell phone from inside of his jacket, he walked around to the front of the handicapped parking sign, and punched some numbers into the touchpad.

Kendall followed behind him. "What the hell are you doing?"

Mouthing some words into the receiver, Zach nodded toward the face of the sign, where a telephone number was provided for reporting handicapped parking space violations. Beneath the number was printed the legend violators towed.

Kendall was so on edge that she was nearly ready to implode, but this scenario struck her as being just plain funny, with a denouement so richly deserved by J.R., that she couldn't help it. Something tight within her snapped, and she began to giggle helplessly.

In response, Zach gave her a rare smile that unexpectedly lit up his handsome face. "You approve?"

"Of course! J.R. never thinks the law applies to him. It's about time he got called on it for once."

Snapping his phone shut with a flourish, Zach said, "Done."'

"Poor J.R. will come strutting down from Greenlee's like the king of the world as usual, and discover his car is gone. He'll be livid!" Kendall laughed.

"That's the idea," Zach smiled again.

"Will you do me a favor, though, please, Zach?"

"Name it, Kendall."

"_Please_ don't offer J.R. a ride home too."

Zach gave an even rarer chuckle, rare in Kendall's experience of him, anyway. "I'd be tempted. Just for the pleasure of hearing Junior force himself to decline."

"And they say I'm bad, Zach. But you're good. You're very good—_ooph_."

Still laughing and not paying close attention to where she was stepping, Kendall stumbled over the curb, lost her balance, and began to fall forward. Before she barely had time to blink, she found herself swept up safely in Zach's arms. Instinctively throwing her arms around him, she clutched at him for dear life, a rather mortifying reaction she never would have expected to display toward Zach Slater if she lived a million more lifetimes. But his wide shoulders suddenly seemed expressly designed to hold on to.

What was worse…the tighter Kendall clung to Zach, the more it seemed he tightened his hold on her. The question was about to become who was going to release whom first when the voices of Greenlee and Ryan Lavery and J.R. Chandler, and the squeal of baby stroller wheels hitting the pavement, emerged from behind the apartment building's automatic doors.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

_It's the frozen tableau from hell_, Kendall thought, trying to stifle her laughter before it turned hysterical. She viewed the scene almost as objectively as if she were having an out-of-body experience: Herself caught up in Zach's arms, the two of them apparently enjoying a good joke together, for all the world to see, while Greenlee, Ryan, and J.R. all stared at them with their respective jaws hanging open to varying degrees. Those jaws began to close only when Zach slowly lowered Kendall to the ground.

"Well, aren't you two cozy, Kendall." Greenlee spoke first, light sarcasm laced with curiosity dripping from her tongue. "Not that you two weren't pretty cozy yesterday, but that was more of a 'pull them apart before they strangle each with their bare hands' kind of coziness, if not a 'these two really shouldn't be together in the same room where I keep my sharpest carving knives' cozy. Is there something you forgot to tell me?"

"Get your filthy hands off Kendall, Slater," Ryan snarled more tersely before his wife had finished, while J.R. continued to stare, a smirk of supreme satisfaction across his face as he whistled.

"Why, Kendall, you little dickens. I wasn't as off base as you wanted me to think, was I?" J.R.'s tone was fond—and his eyes were dead cold.

Beside Kendall, Zach moved nary a muscle yet without even looking at him, she sensed him seamlessly reversing gears, from being at ease and sanguine, back to being guarded and aloof.

Little Miranda appeared absorbed in the proceedings, her reaction conveyed in the sign language of alternately clapping and waving hands.

There was only one safe place in this group. Ignoring them all but her niece, Kendall rushed to kneel before the stroller, which was hiding a good portion of Greenlee, like an acolyte making an offering to a diminutive goddess. "Oh, my sweet little Miranda," Kendall cooed, trying to focus her fractured awareness on the one person who didn't threaten to complete the fracturing process. "I am _so_ glad to see you. Is Greenlee taking good care of you?"

Making happy gurgling noises, the baby reached out to touch her face. Lightly holding her niece's small fingers to her cheek, Kendall added softly, "I can see Greenlee is taking very good care of you, Miranda, but I'll bet you've missed me, haven't you? I've sure missed you."

"Well?" Greenlee demanded above both Miranda's and Kendall's heads. "Will somebody _please_ tell me what's going on here? Zach? Let's start with you."

"Kendall missed the curb. I prevented the spill," Zach replied darkly.

"Oh, come _on_, Zach. Or maybe I should ask first, who are you and what have you done with the real Zach Slater, you know the one who would have given Kendall the big _shove_ himself only yesterday?"

Kendall tore herself away from Miranda and looked up at Greenlee. "So Zach stopped me from crippling myself, Greenlee. Geez."

Greenlee persisted. "I wasn't born yesterday, Kendall. When Zach hauled me over the parking barrier yesterday it was pretty dashing, but it wasn't with panache like _that_!"

Aghast, Ryan interjected, "Greenlee, Slater did _what_?"

Hastily, his wife explained, "It's no big deal, Ryan, it was when I went to see Kendall and the gate was down, the reporters were massed, and Zach was all that stood between me and being trampled." She returned to Zach. "But the point is, Zach, there's a great big difference between acting like Tarzan to _my_ Jane and acting like Tarzan to _Kendall's_ Jane, and I still want to know what's going on."

"How about that Slater, Ryan? Told you. He's a fast worker," J.R. snickered.

"Wait a minute, J.R.," Ryan said. "Greenlee, I don't like the idea of Slater putting his hands on you under any circumstances. I will expect it not to happen again. Slater, what the hell are you even doing here? You're not welcome to keep coming around, and if you don't leave right now, I'll get on the phone to my lawyer and get a restraining order issued to keep you away from my wife and chil—I mean, Miranda."

"Isn't that going just a little too far, Ryan," Greenlee started and then seemed to think better of ending.

"Don't try to keep me away from Miranda, Lavery," Zach replied contemptuously. "You have no authority over her or me."

Ryan puffed out his chest. "I can keep you out of my home, and that's where Miranda is currently residing."

"Ryan, from what I saw, Miranda has as warm and loving and secure a home with you as she had with me," J.R. piped up earnestly. "I'll put in a good word for you."

With a final caress of Miranda's cheek, Kendall climbed to her feet. "Maybe Miranda 'residing' with you isn't such a good idea, then, Ryan," she said more calmly than she felt. Ryan's possessiveness toward Miranda echoed his wife's. Kendall not only had a bad feeling about that for her own sake, much less for Zach's, she had a bad feeling about J.R.'s presence on the scene. He must have gone straight from her place to the Laverys' this morning. Why? To Kendall's knowledge, J.R. had ignored Miranda since after she'd been revealed to be Bianca's daughter, not his, and his own child with his ex-wife Babe had proven to still be alive.

"And just what say do _you _have in any of this, J.R.?" Kendall asked, still attempting with almost superhuman effort to remain calm. "You've been out of the Miranda picture for quite awhile and I've never known you to socialize with Ryan and Greenlee. I don't get why you're even here, or who you're putting in a word _with_."

"Don't try to make J.R. the bad guy in this, Kendall. He was only—," Ryan began.

At the same time, J.R. said too sincerely, "Of course I still care about Miranda, she spent the first—"

Zach's deep voice boomed compellingly over both Ryan's and J.R.'s. "I'll take that question, Kendall." When everyone's startled gaze was refastened on him, he lowered his voice and continued, "If you'll answer mine first. Did Junior know where Miranda was?"

"I don't…oh, wait. He did. I mentioned it to him before—" Kendall paused uncomfortably.

"—before tossing him out of your house. Junior then flew here to report in to Ryan and Greenlee."

Kendall forgot the others were all avidly listening. "Report in? Zach, report _what_?"

"You're damn right I did, Kendall!" J.R. interrupted angrily. "I don't have anything to hide. I figured Ryan especially would be fascinated to know you were already shacking up with Slater."

"_What_?" Kendall and Greenlee both gasped.

Recovering quickly, Greenlee turned to Ryan. "Is _that_ what you and J.R. were talking about while I was getting Miranda ready to go out for her walkums to the parkums? Good heavens, Ryan, that _is_ a major newsflash! Why not share with me?"

"I planned to talk to you about it privately when we were alone together, Greenlee," Ryan said stiffly. "But it's out in the open now."

"Oh, for god's sake, Ryan—you don't really think it's _true_, do you?" Kendall protested. "Zach simply happened to be at my house this morning, and for some reason J.R. jumped to the completely wrong conclusion." She glared at J.R., who glared back.

"Well, what _I _think depends on what you tell me Zach was _doing_ at your house, Kendall," Greenlee said, her brown eyes huge.

"_Fuck_," Kendall muttered under her breath, to which Greenlee immediately responded under her breath, "_Please_ don't use the F-word in front of Miranda!"

Kendall's fists clenched. "Greenlee and Ryan, listen to me. Zach wasn't 'doing' anything at my house. We simply had tea together and—and talked about Ethan."

J.R. guffawed in disbelief. "Oh, you and Slater sure were mourning Ethan, Kendall. Why don't you describe to Greenlee exactly how the two of you were dressed for your little tea party? That's the best part—don't leave that out."

Zach had been standing slightly apart from the others. Now he stepped forward to face J.R. "As you know, I was wearing running clothes. I was heading for my daily run. Kendall was wearing a nightgown and robe. It was still early in the morning. Do yourself a favor, Junior. Do not persist with this fantasy."

"Your daily _run_? Oh, is that what you call it in front of Miranda?" J.R. grinned unabashedly. "_Good_ one! So good I'll have to remember it for future use. I hate to tell you, though, Slater, it's not really my idea of a fantasy."

Zach slightly cocked his head in the way that was becoming familiar to Kendall. "You know what, Junior? We should be having none of this entire pointless and distorted debate in front of Miranda. Carry on without me. I've had my fill of it." He turned aside to the agog Greenlee. "Kendall and I came to visit our niece. I know you know how important that is now. I'd like you to let us take her for her walk. For the rest of the day, in fact."

"Out of the question!" Ryan roared. "Absolutely out of the question, Slater. And Kendall, you can't be agreeable to sharing time with Miranda with this—this—"

"This what?" Zach asked silkily.

Ryan swallowed noticeably, repeating, "It's just out of the question."

Nodding vigorously, Greenlee agreed, echoing, "Just like Ryan says, out of the question, Zach. Sorry, but that would disrupt the schedule I'm trying to establish for Miranda."

On the sidelines, Kendall glanced surreptitiously at Zach. She was feeling like nothing so much as a dog's chew toy gnawed into submission by a yard full of Chihuahuas. Zach, however, easily towered over them like an unyielding Rottweiler—an impressive stance infinitely preferable to be behind than opposite, she realized thankfully. Passively allowing Zach to speak for her with Ryan and Greenlee probably wasn't a very prudent move…but he had shut up J.R., at least temporarily, so his chances of prevailing with the Laverys, however he chose to do it, had to be greater than hers. Kendall decided not to intervene…yet.

In addition to which, Zach's request—more resembling a demand than a request—for himself _and_ her to take Miranda for the day had thrown completely Kendall for a loop. Was Zach including her as part of the arrangement because the odds of his individually prying Miranda away from Greenlee were equal to zero, or was he fulfilling his pledge to honor Bianca's wishes, which certainly would have been to include Kendall if he succeeded—or both?

Zach was saying, "Did Kendall ask you to establish a schedule for Miranda, Greenlee?"

"No, of course she didn't. Kendall doesn't know a thing about babies and that's why I took Miranda home with me in the first place—because I do," Greenlee told him. "Miranda needs a stable, structured, environment right now and we can give her that. I can't just let you two go waltzing off with her any time you feel like it."

"Back off, Slater, just back off," Ryan put in. "Don't give _my_ wife a hard time because Kendall was unprepared to take on the care of a baby."

Kendall h ad finally had enough of being talked about. "Nobody said I was giving up Miranda indefinitely, Ryan. Greenlee was only supposed to take her until I could get my place ready."

"I can vouch for it that Kendall's condo still isn't ready," J.R. said helpfully. "No play yard, no walker, no bouncer, no high chair, no safety gates, no toys or activity centers, loose stuff all over the place—Miranda's very mobile, you know, Kendall—I'm telling you, Greenlee, if Miranda were still mine, I wouldn't let her near Kendall's disaster area unless I was there to keep an eye on her."

"J.R., you son of a—!" Kendall bit off the rest. Miranda was staring up at her with her enormous, lushly dark-fringed brown eyes. Kendall knelt down to become eye-level with her in her stroller again. "Poor Miranda," she murmured. "You just want to go for a walk to the park and see all the buildings and cars and trees and people and dogs and go for a ride in the baby swing and get some ice cream, don't you? And these crazy grown-ups keep standing around fussing at each other and wasting your time, huh?"

"No way," Greenlee said portentously, "is Miranda _touching_ any germ-ridden safety hazard swing or ingesting any high calorie, high saturated fat ice cream."

Rolling her eyes, Kendall looked up. "Oh, please, Greenlee, don't be ridiculous!"

"My wife is not being ridiculous. She is being responsible. And we are getting _nowhere_ with this discussion," Ryan announced. "The bottom line is Miranda is staying with Greenlee and me for the time being, and Kendall, we will discuss new arrangements only when you can show it's in Miranda's best interests."

"Now you're being ridiculous, Ryan." Kendall tried to avoid sounding heated. "You don't have authority over me any more than you have it over Zach."

Ignoring her as if she hadn't spoken at all, Ryan went on like a potentate issuing royal proclamations. "As for you, Slater, remember what I said about the restraining order and Kendall, I suggest you reconsider associating with this man. Now, J.R., you were already leaving, so we'll say good-bye here. Kendall, you and Slater may as well go—wherever it was you were going after this. Greenlee and I are proceeding to the park with Miranda and you aren't welcome to join us at this time."

This time Kendall knew it was her own jaw that was hanging open. She was about to put it to more active use when Zach moved to her side. Before she could say anything, a light touch pressed against her arm through her jacket. When Kendall looked at him in surprise, he gave her an infinitesimal shake of his head.

To the Laverys, he said, "Then neither Kendall nor I will intrude any further. _At this time_."

The only thing preventing the whole encounter from being an entire fiasco was the arrival of a police cruiser whose driver pulled over to the curb behind J.R.'s still illegally parked car. Both Kendall and Greenlee recognized the policeman who emerged from the interior as Officer Lyman, who'd had a crush on Simone Torres, their attractive but unlucky-at-love colleague at Fusion. "Ladies," he greeted them warmly, "how's the make-up business? Nice 'Vette! Does it belong to either one of you?"

"It's my car, Officer," J.R. bragged. "Sweet, eh?"

Ignoring J.R., the policeman pulled out his ticket book, squatted behind J.R.'s car, and started writing. He then rose to his feet and strolled around to the left front of the car, peered through the windshield, and wrote something else down.

J.R. approached him irately. "Hey—what's the idea, Officer?"

Officer Lyman ripped the ticket from the pad and handed it to J.R. "Needed your plate number and VIN. This is known as a parking ticket, son. There's a tow truck coming along behind me, so you might want to move the wheels before they wind up wedged between a pair of rusted-out pickups down at the city impoundment lot."

"A parking ticket? Don't you know who I am?" J.R. demanded, regarding the ticket with disdain.

Officer Lyman snorted. "There's a Chandler memorial cell down at the station. We keep it dusted just in case—never know if you or the old man is staying or visiting when you come in. Keep mouthing off to me and we'll make it another stay. Remember to pay that ticket—the fine doubles after ten days."

Without another word, J.R. stalked to his car, got in, slammed the door behind him, started it, and peeled away from the curb with a squeal of the tires.

"He only got a lousy parking ticket? I was hoping he'd get towed," Kendall said in disappointment.

The police officer winked at her. "I'm not done making his day yet. Tell Simone I'll be dropping by Fusion soon to collect donations for the Pine Valley Police Benevolent Association. Now I'm off to up my speeding ticket quota for the month. Got one right here with that boy's name on it. Good day, ladies! And gentlemen."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

J.R.'s departure left Zach and Kendall standing more or less together, and separated by approximately five feet of concrete slab and an ocean's width of dissonance from side-by-side Ryan and Greenlee, who was gripping the handle of Miranda's stroller with the air of someone waiting for an earthquake, a hurricane, or perhaps both. In spite of Ryan's stated intention to remove Miranda to the park, without J.R. Chandler as his second, he appeared hesitant to give Greenlee the final signal to depart.

In his minds' eye, Zach was envisioning the Laverys backing down the sidewalk to their destination rather than taking the chance on turning their backs on himself, if not himself and Kendall both. Beside him, Kendall bristled like an offended little hedgehog, yet still refrained from launching into the full-scale counterattack he would have expected by now. Why—because she'd actually heeded his cautionary nod, Zach wondered sardonically, or because she'd simply, finally, completely run out of steam?

His hide was far too tough to be scratched by this latest fusillade of assumptions, insinuations, and zings. Its target was Kendall as well as himself, however…and it came from Kendall's own people…not his people; they never had been and never would be, but hers. Kendall's associating with him, even passively, was costing her dearly, because the reverse was no truer—associating with Kendall wasn't exactly helping Zach, either. The real battle line had already been drawn yesterday between Kendall and Greenlee, and Zach acknowledged that as satisfying as it had been to temporarily spike young Chandler's toy guns, the younger man, with his vast resources and even more unlimited spite, added a new complication.

Like it or not, Zach reflected, he and Kendall had somehow climbed aboard the same small boat in—in which there was really only room for one passenger—on this stormy sea they traversed. She, initially looking for the chance to push him overboard…he, initially trying to keep his own balance while frustrating her efforts…the two of them now discovering that when a boat was in danger of being capsized, all passengers risked drowning.

"Well…we're leaving. Don't try to follow us." Ryan now sounded somewhat less belligerent.

"The park is a public place," Zach reminded him. "But there are other places—and times—for Kendall and me to spend time with our niece. As I said, we won't follow you now, if that's what you're afraid of."

Ryan's chin jutted out as he began to respond, but Greenlee released one hand from the stroller long enough to place it on her husband's arm. "Come on, Ryan, let's go. It's getting late and we need to get back on schedule," she said, adding, "I'll call you tonight, Kendall, okay? We'll set something up."

"Oh, it's the old 'don't call me, I'll call you' routine, is that it, Greenlee?" Kendall asked resentfully.

"I just don't want the _phone_ to disturb _Miranda_," Greenlee emphasized, as if speaking to an idiot.

_Patience_, Zach counseled himself. _Patience_. There was really no more to be said at the moment, so he didn't bother to say it. Instead he reached for Kendall's elbow, steering her back to the Range Rover before conditions between the two women deteriorated any further. Volunteering as Kendall's chauffeur—a chore Zach had undertaken less from the gallantry it would have pleased him to know she'd reluctantly attributed to him, and more to still ensure against her meeting the press on her own—comprised a wider range of duties than he'd bargained for. But as was Zach's custom, he accepted them as part of the deal and regarded them as potential new paths leading to what he might want.

Once sitting across from him, Kendall asked very seriously, "Will you tell me something, Zach?"

Glancing at her before guiding his vehicle into traffic, Zach was very conscious of feeling attuned to her. He was very pissed by what had just happened—and so was she. "Sure. If I can."

"Do you know any hit men?"

After maintaining it all morning, Zach nearly lost his composure. "_What_?" he choked.

"Well, you're in the gambling business. Everybody knows gambling equals mobsters. Even if you aren't one, you must know somebody who is."

"Let's say I did. Doesn't mean I'd ever put myself into such debt to one of them."

Kendall sighed. "Okay. I wouldn't either. I was joking. Kind of."

Zach decided to be blunt. "Is that so, Kendall? You seem to have an obsession with hit men Has something changed, because isn't that essentially what you think I am?"

"So sue me. I _did_." Her voice suddenly became very small and then trailed off uncomfortably altogether at the end. "I did, Zach, but…but now I don't think…or I wouldn't…I mean, Derek convinced me…that…that…."

With an inner sight of relief, Zach took pity on her. "Then no more talk about hit men. Joking or otherwise."

"Then what are we going to do?" Kendall burst out again. "Greenlee is so caught up in this babymania thing she's becoming unglued, and Ryan is just making it worse by enabling her. Wait a minute, Zach. Where are you going?"

"Until we reach the onramp to the highway, that's up to you. You may go home or you may come to the casino with me. Your choice. As I told you yesterday, I'm not taking you hostage. So where do you want to go?"

Suspecting that in some corner of hell ice-skates were being strapped on to cloven hooves, Zach privately admitted his preference was for Kendall to choose the casino—even though that meant he'd be stuck with her for at least a few hours more. But he was neither looking forward to making the necessary telephone calls awaiting him when he arrived at his office, the difficult decisions they would engender—or the drive home alone. Sensing her rather searching gaze upon him, he kept his own on the road ahead.

Kendall flopped back against her seat and sighed. "I probably shouldn't go either place. Somebody needs to show at Fusion once in awhile to spell Simone. If Greenlee's going to be spending all her time at home with Miranda, I guess it'll have to be me."

"That wasn't said very enthusiastically," Zach commented.

"Well, aren't you observant," she replied more briskly. "If you want to know what I really want to do right now, Zach, it's to turn into Miranda—I want somebody to feed me, dress me, take me to the park, buy me ice cream, and put me on the swing. But I'm trying to be a responsible business owner."

Zach shrugged. "I get that. That's what subordinates are for. Don't you think Simone can hold the fort down for a few days? She knows it's an emergency."

Kendall sighed once more. "She's very capable, more capable than Greenlee and I put together. Maybe I just want to feel I'm of some use _some_where."

Again, Zach felt attuned to her and made a split decision. The closest highway entrance to the casino was coming up. Pulling over into the right lane, he accelerated up the curved ramp. That was when Kendall seemed to recognize where they were heading, and that he'd summarily taken matters into his own hands.

"Hey!" she protested loudly. "I told you I ought to go to _Fusion_. What's the idea of taking me to the casino, Zach?"

"No, what you said you wanted, Kendall, was to be coddled like a baby. And do you know what? I don't blame you."

"And just who is going to coddle me, Zach? _You?_" she asked more than a little incredulously.

Zach passed a slower vehicle and was honked at for his effrontery. "Indirectly. The Seasons has a luxury day spa, Kendall. Massages, body wraps, mud baths, facials, aromatherapy. Gourmet spa cuisine prepared by a Michelin three-star chef and served to you while lounging in our three-tiered waterfall pool—the whole works, or whatever combination you wish, all yours merely for the asking. And yes, that was cribbed from the brochure."

"A day spa? You're abducting me to your _day spa_?" Kendall still sounded incredulous. "Look…okay, the way you describe it, it sounds really wonderful, I admit—and it is kind of what I said I wanted. All right, it's exactly what I want. But Zach, I wasn't asking _you_ to provide it for me. You don't have to do that. You just don't have to."

Kendall's desire to acquiesce to such a delightful prospect clearly warred with her reluctance to accept any favors from him. If the shoe were on the other foot, Zach realized objectively, he wasn't so sure but that he'd be ambivalent about it too. In fact he probably would have unequivocally refused it. A bit ruefully, though, he conceded, "I know you weren't, Kendall. And I know I don't. So I should point out we are over half the way there. Should I turn around at the next exit?"

A hush fell over them for several moments, before Kendall replied, slowly, "If we're already that close, then I suppose turning around would be pretty inconvenient, wouldn't it? I mean even more inconvenient than just—just—well—"

"Turning you over to the spa director?" Zach asked candidly.

"Well, um—something like that, don't you think, Zach? But you're the one who's driving, so of course you'd be the better judge."

So should he have been a better judge, he would realize later, but he was feeling tired, hungry, and lost too. The casino was closer than Fusion, and so to the casino they went. Kendall was taken in hand by the sympathetic Frieda Swenson, the spa director, to receive a brief introduction to the spa's many features and decide which services she preferred. Zach made no stipulations as to limits on the number or their duration or cost; it mattered not to him, and he could see that Kendall wasn't regretting falling in with his plan.

Initially he'd planned to stay at the office for no more than half a day and even that probably wasn't necessary thanks to his delegations of authority. Being on his own familiar turf again, however, was somewhat revitalizing. With instructions to Frieda to page him when Kendall had had her fill of pampering, Zach went to his private office and closed the door behind him, mentally congratulating himself on holding up so relatively well thus far. Once he'd made the personal calls he needed to make, he intended to alert Edie that he was available; she'd already be aware he was on the premises.

That was when the loss of Ethan hit Zach the hardest that it had yet…hammering him like a heavy blow to the solar plexus he didn't even see coming, the sudden intensity of it sinking him almost to his knees. Staggering to his desk, Zach dropped into his chair and buried his face in his hands.

Before his mind's eye, his relentless memory began replaying scenes from so many painful dramas enacted in this room…Zach's first suspicion that Ethan might be his son, his horrified reception of the DNA test confirmation…the ensuing unproductive conversation where Zach offered Ethan a home anywhere in the world he wanted to live, the career of his choice, and a fortune to spend—as long as Ethan lived, worked, and spent anywhere but Pine Valley, and forgot the name Cambias ever existed.

And so on and so and so on…and all for naught. The Great Wall of China had nothing on Ethan when it came to being an impenetrable edifice. Banging his head against its ancient defiant stones would undoubtedly would have left more of an impression, too, than Zach was ever able to make on the heart, soul, or mind of the boy he'd so yearned yet feared to claim as his son. Meanwhile the Great Wall still stood…while all that was left for Ethan was a different type of memorial stone.

Zach's demons, dormant since early morning, began to come out to play, making up for lost time. _You fucked up so royally with Ethan; do you really think you'll do better by Miranda?_ Zach taunted himself. Maybe Kendall had been right all along in her attempts to come between him and his niece. He would go to his own death rather than deliberately harm Miranda…but then he would have died for Ethan too, if that had been the only way to save Ethan from the taint that promised to devour him. Only Ethan was the dead man now. The wrong ones always died.

_Stop it stop it fucking _stop_ it… _Zach pushed away from the desk, made himself go out of the office before the images lurking within it consumed him. He had wallowed long enough and no matter how tempting, no, how _inevitable_ it was, he couldn't allow wallowing to become his style. In the same section of the casino as the day spa was a large, bright, well-equipped workout room. Zach decided to go reacquaint himself with a certain weight bench. Those devils hated exercise.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

First there was the aromatherapy mineral bath. Then there was the holistic massage, followed by the hydrating anti-stress facial. In between there was a delicate repast of varied vegetarian tidbits served in a gleaming lacquered bento box and a dainty porcelain cup of steaming jasmine tea. The grand finale was an exfoliating pedicure that nearly made Kendall purr.

All the treatments she'd indulged in had left her face and body somehow both stimulated yet relaxed, and her skin glowing. They'd even managed to calm her churning mind for a brief time, and Kendall appreciated the respite. Unfortunately, though, despite the rejuvenating treatments, she couldn't wholly forget where she was…or why, and as soon as she returned to her dressing room where her own clothing hung on the wicker clothes tree, she was only too reminded of the reason.

Once removed from the thick white terry robe and slippers with the Seasons logo embroidered on them—which Frieda Swenson had graciously informed her were hers to keep—and into her own casual clothes, Kendall knew she would shift right back to the real world where she still needed to figure out what the hell to do about Miranda, Greenlee, Ryan, and J.R., while at the same time agonizing over the fates of Bianca, Erica, and Jack, mourning Ethan,…and trying to fathom Zach.

_But first…whoa…I need a _napAnd her private spa dressing room _was_ almost the size of a small bedroom; in addition to containing an individual lavatory cubicle, its décor included a miniature wicker secretary's desk and chair that matched the clothing tree and, more invitingly, a deeply upholstered bright floral chaise longue which Kendall looked at with longing.But the one thing there _wasn't_ was a clock. Nor was there a phone. No doubt by design.

Kendall padded out in search of Frieda or someone to help her track down Zach and find out when he planned to leave, because presumably he did remember she was still in the day spa and hadn't left without her. But Frieda was busy conducting another client to a treatment room, so Kendall wandered away from the spa entrance and into the larger foyer from which the other health and relaxation areas of the casino—the sunken swimming pool and the gym—extended, looking for a house phone.

All of the outer walls were glass, permitting viewing of a section of the gym, and of the pool. Feeling pity for anyone taking a beating in the gym, when he or she could have been spectacularly pampered instead as she had just so thoroughly been in the spa, Kendall went over to witness their masochism and gloat. And there she spotted the man she was looking for: Zach, aggressively alternating jabs at a long-suffering punching bag that had clearly never done anything to him. The single-minded way he was going about it made Kendall shiver. _Better it than me!_

There didn't appear to be anything personal animating Zach's punches, though. From what she could see of it, the expression on his face, which was visible mostly in profile, reflected extreme concentration only, not bad temper. The longer Kendall watched him, the more vicariously swept up she became in the flow of his motions. As he danced from foot to foot before the punching bag Zach did have quite a rhythmic as well as a violent form of negative energy release going on.

In any event he made an effective advertisement for the benefits of his own casino. _My god, I didn't realize what a perfect specimen he is_, she thought approvingly._ Even his worst enemy would have to grant him that. _The near perfection of Zach's physique was rather evident under anything he wore; it was even more evident now it was on such athletic display. Admiring both the grace of his athletic prowess and the muscles glistening from his exertions, Kendall was actually disappointed when he slowed down at last and came to a stop.

Leaning down and seizing a towel from a nearby bench, he draped the towel around his neck and looked up—and right at her. In her current state, the unexpected effect of that look on her made Kendall feel almost weak. This pumped, magnificent male animal was the guy she'd recently attacked with her bare hands? _Whoa_. How truly fortunate she'd been that he hadn't taken the opportunity to snap her neck between _his_ two bare hands.

The surprise registering on Zach's face when he realized she'd been watching him seemed to indicate he'd been unaware of her scrutiny but, unnervingly for Kendall, she possessed enough awareness of him for the two of them. She certainly seemed almost pathetically destined to be caught ogling him, too…trying to save face, she tapped lightly on the glass wall and gave him a little wave, as if she'd been trying to attract his attention all along.

Taking his time as he wound his way along the path through other equipment between himself and the gym entrance, Zach finally made his way to where she stood. Dispensing with preliminaries he asked, "Was the coddling process a success?"

"Are you kidding? I mean—I could move into and live full-time at your spa, Zach.," Kendall said sincerely, trying to keep her gaze above his chest.

"Yeah?" Her compliment seemed to momentarily please him. "You can stay as long as you want."

Seeing a chance for a plug in return for her own business, Kendall added, "The only thing that could make it any better would be if you used some Fusion products. Otherwise it's everything you said it was."

"Fusion? Sounds like a good idea. I'll put Frieda on it. Did you get something to eat over there too?"

She nodded. "I had a wonderful lunch. Vegetable sushi and herbal tea. Absolutely delicious."

"That's not even an appetizer. It's not even food," Zach snorted.

"Hey, don't look at me! It's _your _casino and that's what they serve."

"Oh. Then don't quote me."

"Okay, that remark will be edited from the reprint of the brochure."

It suddenly seemed to occur to Zach that they had begun to engage in what could be considered banter. "I meant it if you want to stay longer at the spa. I'm going up to my private suite to grab a shower. Kendall?"

"Um…actually? I'm kind of sp_ahh_ed out. I think maybe I've actually reached my coddling limit for now. If I get too used to it it'll be dangerous."

"Suit yourself. Listen, I haven't eaten, and more to the point I haven't finished up in the office yet. If you don't want to wait around, someone will drive you home."

Zach's abrupt disengagement felt like a deliberate slap in the face after an unexpected caress which Kendall regretted allowing. "Hey, Zach…what's with the early dismissal notice?"

"I have loose ends to tie up," he said curtly.

"So…pat little Kendall on the head, give her a nice treat, and then send her toddling along when she gets in the way, is that it?"

"Don't take it personally."

"Kind of like that punching bag you were working over in there shouldn't take it personally?"

Gazing off into the distance, Zach returned his gaze to her in a maddeningly unreadable way, replying soberly, "No. I don't choose to inflict myself on you."

"You _don't_?" she asked in feigned disbelief. "Since _when_? You've been inflicting yourself on me and everybody else from the first day we met, Zach. What's stopping you now?"

Almost in spite of himself it seemed, Zach snorted again, very briefly. "Jesus Christ. I have never met _anyone_ as argumentative and confrontational as you."

"Think again, Zach. You've met Erica, haven't you?" A stricken look contorted Kendall's face as soon as she realized what she'd said. The carelessly dropped reference to her missing mother ricocheted from Kendall to Zach and then back to Kendall again while she tried her best to recompose herself. "Never mind."

"Kendall…." Zach was atypically tentative. "You know what, that was a compliment. Your mother is too damn pig-headed not to survive. Neither one of you will ever take _no _for an answer."

"Gee, thanks, Zach—I _think_—but I haven't even asked you a _question _first!" she pointed out. "I simply objected to your dismissing me like—wait, are you just walking away while I'm trying to _talk _to you?"

For that was exactly what Zach had done. While Kendall was talking, he simply turned and headed for the elevator lobby across the foyer. At her challenging him on it, he came to a quick halt and called back to her, "I told you I had things to do. Hurry _up_ then."

"You son of a bitch," Kendall muttered, stomping over to him. "Fuck you and the overpriced SUV you rode in on. Why am I even doing this?" She was too annoyed to remember she was still dressed for the spa, until she stepped into the elevator behind Zach and faced herself in its mirrored back wall. There she received such an unattractive glimpse of her unmade-up, scrubbed face, floating palely between the terrycloth turban wrapped around her hair—from which wild tendrils were escaping—and the matching voluminous spa robe that she nearly shrieked in alarm.

This letting Zach see her at her absolute worst and most vulnerable was getting to be a habit she needed to _break_. Especially when it always seemed to happen when they were in close quarters and it was impossible to overlook that he was more than half-naked himself. But this was getting ridiculous.

"Stand back, Kendall."

"Huh?"

"You're in the way." Zach's arm snaked past her. His hand held a keycard which he inserted into a slot on the elevator control panel.

"So what happens now, Zach? Does that turn the elevator into own private dungeon?"

Cocking his head slightly, he replied, "'That' turns this elevator into an express. Shoots us nonstop to my suite."

"I'd like to shoot you," she continued to grumble. "You didn't even give me a chance to get dressed before you abducted me again!"

"See how irresistible you are?"

Knowing she was anything but, Kendall muttered more invective against him.

She wasn't the only one calling Zach names.

_I'm a goddamned fool._ It was the first truly cognizant thought Zach had not filtered out to some extent since leaving his office earlier and attempting to elude his despair through the mindless routine of demanding physical exercise. _A complete, utter, stupid, hopeless fool. _

But…as always with him these days…when two choices were before him, he seemed unable to avoid the one guaranteed to make any matter worse, because now instead of shaking her off his tail with his long-practiced ease, he actually intended to admit Kendall to his private suite. Was anything he could inflict on her even remotely equal to subjecting himself to an encore performance of her complaints and jibes, more of her endless need for attention…god, it was so fucking annoying…. _If it's that annoying, why didn't you leave her downstairs? _

The elevator doors slid back to reveal immediate access to Zach's suite. Decorated tastefully in contemporary style furnishings in neutral earth tone fabrics and woods, with the occasional accent of a deeper color such as gold, terra cotta, and burgundy, the space was slightly less impersonal than his condo, but not much less so than one of the guestrooms in the casino hotel.

"Home sweet home," Zach said briefly, waiting for her to glance around.

The suite consisted of a spacious rectangular room divided into two distinct areas. One was a living/dining area with a kitchen alcove; the other was a sleeping with a bathing/dressing alcove. A modern light wood wall unit stretching along the long wall opposite the entry tied the two areas together. Among other things, including several ojects d'art, southwestern in appearance, the wall unit held a large stereo system, but closed doors above and below it hid from view whatever CD's or albums Zach may have used it to listen to, and also concealed whatever books he may have stored there—if he did. The only window seemed to be in the kitchen alcove, a small one that looked out on the mostly treed countryside surrounding the casino.

The other most notable thing, Kendall supposed as she took it all in, was a small fireplace, with a flat-screen television installed above it, along one of the short walls, opposite the king-side bed whose head was against the opposite short wall. No, it wasn't a particularly personal space, but it was clearly a private one; with more the air of being a personal fortress than a public salon.

"Much more conservative than I expected," Kendall said with a breeziness she was far from feeling. "I'm really kind of disappointed in you, Zach. No red velvet-covered heart-shaped bed, no bunny-tailed serving wenches…."

She thought she heard him choke off a guffaw. "No, but the weapons of mass destruction are in the tool shed out back."

"Locked or unlocked?"

"Locked while I take a shower."

"That's too bad. I guess I'll just have to twiddle my thumbs in the meantime."

She wondered again what kind of crazy impulse had made her insist on sticking to Zach to this degree. Instead of working on a plan to deal with Greenlee's arbitrary confiscation of Miranda, or camping out by Derek Frye's desk around the clock, or even lying in her own bed sobbing her heart out over Ethan—her life had somehow suddenly become just as hijacked by Zach as Miranda's had by Greenlee. Only she, unlike Miranda with Greenlee, was completely free to walk away from Zach any time she chose…he kept giving her that option, didn't he? He just didn't make it very easy for her to take.

"There's the phone. The various lines are numbered. Call down to my chef for some dinner, will you? Have her send up anything except vegetable sushi. Then make yourself at home. Retrieve your clothes—or have them delivered." Zach handed her the elevator keycard. "Your choice."

What was it he had just said to her? That she never took _no_ for an answer. Well…neither did Zach. But he was far more subtle than Kendall about how he achieved the results he was after. More subtle, and more dangerous. There was no doubt a weapon of mass destruction already right there in the room.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

If Zach's chef—who actually appeared to the head chef for the entire Seasons Casino, not Zach's own personal chef, although that probably amounted to the same thing—thought receiving an order for dinner for two from a strange woman in Zach's suite was unusual, she didn't show it. Kendall was courteously informed that a meal to Mr. Slater's liking would be brought up to the suite in a short while.

After completing that task, Kendall decided she preferred to be fully dressed in front of any casino employee delivering dinner to the room. Not that there was anything at all intimate about her presence here, even the mere suggestion was ludicrous; and doubtless Zach's employees were well-drilled in keeping their eyes, ears, and mouths shut in any event, too. You couldn't stop them from thinking whatever they wanted, though, nor could Kendall deny what she herself would think about it in their shoes.

Riding back down in the elevator, she again examined not only her judgment in but also her reasons for not just telling Zach to take a backwards hike around his casino and making her own way home. When she spotted the gym on the way back to the day spa Kendall laughed at herself that it was because Zach looked so good in boxers…and maybe there was a grain of truth in that; regardless of how she felt about Mr. Slater, she wasn't blind. This time yesterday, the reason would have been because she was afraid he'd get too close to Miranda if she didn't monitor him, and maybe that was still part of it, although she no longer feared for Miranda's actual physical safety.

_I just feel so cast out by everyone_, she realized. _It's weird but everyone except Zach has either given me a hard time or just called and then gone on with their lives while this is going on._ Everyone except Myrtle, she supposed, and she vowed to call the older woman later that night. As for the rest…well, did it really matter? There was nothing anyone could do or say to make her feel better, nothing anyone could do or say to change anything that had already happened or that was waiting to happen, Kendall shivered.

She didn't want sympathy anyway; what good did that do? Most people, she realized cynically, conveyed their sympathies to you as expeditiously as possible, so they could start telling you about their _own_ problems. That was one trait Zach had never, _ever_ exhibited….

Returning to her dressing room in the spa no closer to any real answers, Kendall removed the robe and turban and hung them up, changed back into her own clothes, and fluffed out her hair. Giving the place a longing look over her shoulder, she was proceeding back to the elevator when the spa director, Frieda Swenson, came hurrying after her with her arms full.

"Miss Hart!" the other woman panted. "Miss Hart!" She was carrying the robe Kendall had been so glad to dispense with, as well as a lovely sectioned wicker gift basket tied with a soft lavender bow and filled with lavender netting cushioning samples of products used on Kendall earlier. "I'm glad I caught you. We didn't want you to leave without these complementary spa gifts. And of course, the robe is yours too."

Kendall forbore from identifying herself as one of the founders of Fusion and from pointing out that carrying beauty products to her was like carrying coal to Newcastle, but she accepted the basket and the robe, which she'd forgotten was hers to keep.

Frieda Swenson continued, "Oh, and I have a message for you. Mr. Slater called down to see if you were still here or on your way back to his suite. He wanted you to know the dinner you ordered arrived."

Making a mental note to tell Zach to please stop treating her like a yo-yo, Kendall managed another smile for Frieda, politely thanking her before the other woman departed. As Kendall turned back toward the elevator once more, she was speechless to find herself on a collision course with J.R. Chandler,

"My, my, my, my. How very interesting. How very, very, very interesting." J.R. sounded very chipper. "What was that I just heard? Dinner is waiting for you in Mr. Slater's suite? _Le dîner pour deux_? And I thought you'd be interested in breakfast in a bag. My mistake!"

When she found her voice again, the best Kendall could do was, "You need to change your record, J.R Your needle's stuck."

"It's not _my_ needle that's stuck," he said crudely.

"Oh, yes, it is, it's stuck up your—never mind. What the hell are you _doing_ following me around?" she demanded. "Because that is what you are doing, isn't it? This meeting isn't an accident."

"It's a free world." J.R. shrugged his shoulders. "I can come and go as I please. I just happened to please to spend the afternoon doing a little gambling. I was pretty sore about getting rooked at the craps table, but running into you more than makes up for it."

"And you just happened to get lost on the way out and wound up at the spa. Bullshit, J.R."

"I know, what a coincidence, huh, Kendall? Is there any reason why I shouldn't wind up here? If there is maybe you could fill me in."

Kendall sniffed. "Well, why _would_ you end up here unless you're in the market for a stone massage or a kiwi facial, and somehow you just don't strike me as the type."

J.R. affected one of his choir boy expressions. "Mmm, I love kiwis. Why don't you answer my question first? Does it have anything to do with why you're acting all… well… flustered?"

"If I'm flustered it's because I caught you following me around like a sneak thief and I don't like it! Even you should be able to understand that, J.R. Now if you don't leave me alone and get out of my way I'll…."

"You'll what, Kendall? Sic Slater on me again?"

"_What_? Don't make me laugh, J.R. If Zach goes after you it's because you asked for it."

"Right, and it was a fluke the cop showed up when he did. Slater's got the police force in his back pocket."

"Zach didn't send any cop after you. You were speeding. Besides, I thought it was the _Chandlers_ who owned the law in Pine Valley."

"But you didn't _stop_ Slater from sending that cop after me either, did you?" J.R. asked resentfully.

"Will you please get this straight, J.R.? I don't have any control over what Zach does, which would be—in case you haven't noticed—whatever the hell he _wants_ to do." After that remark, Kendall pressed her lips closed. Far from stopping Zach from reporting J.R.'s parking violation, she'd cheered him—but the basic point remained the same.

"Yeah, well, Kendall, you better tell your new boy toy to stop toying with _me_, or you'll both be sorry," J.R. threatened. "Remember, two can play this game."

Swallowing angrily, she began, "I'll do you a favor and not even _mention_ this to Zach. Because he is _not _my—"

"Is this gentleman bothering you, Miss?" Kendall looked up in surprise to find a very tall, very burly man wearing a dark suit and tie, a prominent security badge, and a forbidding visage to go with them, approaching her and J.R. He went on to explain, "Ms. Swenson called for me when she heard raised voices. I'm Frank Reynolds, Deputy Security Head here at the Seasons."

Following this new intrusion, Kendall wanted to sink through the floor. Now Zach would definitely hear about this altercation with J.R. Why shouldn't he, though, she supposed—in fact, Zach should probably hear about it directly from her first, instead of from a member of his security staff. After this, she didn't owe J.R. anything. Especially when there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell J.R. was planning to keep it to himself anyway.

As soon as he was out of her hearing range, it wasn't necessary to be in a casino to bet J.R. would instantly whip out his cell phone, punch in Ryan's number and falsely swear, yet again, that there was something going on between her and Zach. When this whole farce was nothing more than a comedy of errors…no, a tragedy, with the potential to become even more tragic.

"Thank you," Kendall replied stiffly to the deputy security head. "But this man isn't really bothering me. I just don't think he realizes how anxious I am to leave, that's all."

"By all means, then, Kendall, _depart_. Don't let _me_ stand in your way." J.R. spoke through gritted teeth. "Or your goon's way," he added _sotto voce_.

"May I escort you somewhere, Miss?" Reynolds asked Kendall protectively.

"Er, um, no thanks. I was just…heading over there." She gave J.R. what she hoped was a warning look before walking away with as much dignity as she could muster.

Finally, safely alone in the sanctuary of the elevator and whisking upward, Kendall began to shake with a belated reaction to the scene with J.R. Who the hell did that little prick think he was, spying on her, misinterpreting what he saw, and then tattling about it? For that matter, who the hell did Zach think _he_ was, always taking matters into his own hands, calling around behind her and checking up on her as if she were his missing puppy? Why was she allowing it? When the elevator dumped her out into Zach's lair, Kendall was well and truly on her way to a rampage.

She found Zach showered and changed into a gray linen button front shirt and black linen slacks. He looked handsome, appealing and, for him, downright close to human. An appetizing aroma scented the air—something beef-y and wine-y—seemingly arising from beneath shining silver plate covers on a round, white damask-covered table set for two placed by the sofa—while soothing acoustic guitar music played almost inaudibly in the background.

"Tell me something, Zach, what the hell difference is there between this set-up and J.R.'s breakfast in a bag?" Kendall raged, hurling her spa gift basket and robe straight into his unprepared arms. "Here, take your lousy parting gifts, I don't need them and I don't want them! I won't be a bone between a couple of dogs like you and J.R.! Especially not now! I just won't!"

"Kendall, what the hell—," he began.

But she wasn't capable of listening through the stinging waves of emotion buffeting her, waves triumphantly rolling in to batter, roll over, and knock down the flimsy seawall of denial behind which she'd been both cowering from and defying those waves all of this day. She couldn't hear Zach over their deafening roar; she could barely even see him—him, or anything else in the room. It was largely instinct guiding her to the nearest flat soft surface on which to fling her prone form and simply lie, gasping desperately for air through the salt water and tears.

Zach left her alone. Some primitive intuition of hers was vaguely conscious he'd removed himself to the farthest end of the room, but not entirely from the vicinity. It didn't really matter. His bed—the same primitive instinct informed her it was that which held her up like a life raft—felt firmly supportive yet somehow as soft as being cuddled by a cloud. It felt very welcoming, very comforting, and she was just so exhausted.

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Kendall escaped from all her chaotic feelings—and from all but one witness—into sleep.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

_She was cold, so freezing cold. Everywhere she looked there was snow, blue-white snow, covering hills stretching in all directions into the distance. Snow so white it glowed with an unearthly light. Bright, silvery stars trailed sparks across the dark blueness of the sky embracing the land. Stars falling all around…sparks of frozen flame…icy snowflakes from a generous sky. How did she get here? Did she fall with the snow from the sky? How could she remember? It didn't matter. She was cold and she would freeze. She didn't want to but it was easy, wasn't it? You just went to sleep…if you could forget how cold you were….._

"_Kendall! Kendall! Where are you?"_

_She knew that voice and she spun around, whipping up snow with her feet. It stuck between her toes and burned. She was only wearing sandals. She waved her arms like windmills through the snowflakes. They scattered, forming kaleidoscope patterns in the air._

"_Bianca! Bianca, is that you? Are you all right?"_

"_Kendall! Bianca and I are fine! We've been looking all over for you!"_

_She knew that voice too. "Mother? Where are you? Where is Bianca?"_

"_We're here, Kendall! We're so close to you! Can you see us?"_

_There was nothing but snow, more of it falling all the time. It was night and the snow was so thick the sky was silver._

_She strained her eyes. Snow clogged her lashes. "I can't! I can't see anything but snow!" _

"_Follow us, Kendall! Follow us out of the cold! We're shining a light toward you. Can you see it?"_

"_Bianca! Mother! I can't see your light!" she sobbed. Tears froze on her cheeks. It was just so cold. _

"_Follow the sound of our voices then!" The voices were fading._

_The snow was as heavy and thick as a cotton wool blanket muffling all sound. The voices echoed whichever way she turned. She could never reach them. They were too far away and her feet were freezing to the ground. She broke through the ice and started sliding, sliding, sliding. Once she fell into the snow she it would bury her before she could rise. It was hopeless…_

_How did she get to be up in the air? She felt warmer already. Warmer and so, so relieved. The snow was still heavy. Bu someone was holding her, up above the frozen ground. Her heart soared too, as high as the stars she could not see. There was hope. She cried in relief and tears coursed down her cheeks in stinging icicles. She sought more warmth, more warmth, to thaw the ice and melt the snow from her pale, cold face. _

_But Bianca…Erica! She needed to tell her rescuer to help her go to them. Could he see them, see their light? If he did would he recognize it? She didn't even know who he was. She tried to distinguish his face through the blinding snow. A gust of wind whipped through them and parted the snow like lace curtains. _

_She saw his face then and she cried out. "Zach! Zach, you're here?"_

_He didn't answer. She already knew the answer to the question. Of course he was there._

"_Zach, will you follow Bianca and my mother?"_

_He shouted. The wind whipped away his words into a feathery whirl of snow. _

_She didn't know what to do. Could she trust him? He saved her from falling, saved her from freezing. Why? She didn't know his reason. _

_Was he was taking her toward Bianca and Erica? Was he taking her away from them? She didn't know what the chances were with him. She only knew what the chances were without him. She closed her eyes and wound her arms around him as far as they would reach. She tightened her hold and hung on. He was just so warm, so very warm. _

_She felt his arms tighten around her. She burrowed against him. Wasn't he human? She needed the warmth and the strength of him in this foreign frigid landscape, needed them at this very moment for her very existence. She could feel them flowing from him and into her._ _The hard frost caking her cheeks dissolved into sweet warm healing oils…._

There were tears on her wet face, her exposed feet were blocks of ice, but from her shoulder blades to the end of her torso, the back of her was feeling deliciously toasty. Rolling over on her side, she snuggled even closer, gratified by the warmth enveloping her in return. Oh, god, she didn't want to wake up. She wanted to stay asleep as long as she could. She intended to stay asleep as long as she could….

Little by little the marvelous warmth permeated her clothes, met and was absorbed by the pores of her grateful skin…raising a slight flush before sinking deeper into the fragile veins that carried her half-chilled blood, raising its temperature to where the heated blood raced headlong to muscles constricted from the paralysis of sleep. Excess heat emitted by awakening muscles tunneled deep into her innermost core where it pooled innocently, comfortably, deceptively lulling her….

There the quality of warmth inside her changed subtly…from one of wellbeing and ease to deprivation and longing. Radiating outward, back through all the levels of her indolent body, it was slyly leaving in its wake a different form of physical need than the one it allayed.

And her back felt chilly again. She was tired of being cold. Sleepily reaching for the convenient bed-warmer, she clasped her arms around its yielding form, pulling it with her as she rolled onto her back again, responding to the faintly protective yet erotic sensation of its acquiescent, heavy weight pressing her into the resilient mattress padding.

She writhed involuntarily and invitingly, still floating in the Netherlands between waking and sleeping she was loath to leave. Trying to get even closer, she pressed upward against it. The weight kept her too pinned down to permit easy maneuvering. She freed her legs and, braced with a foot on either side of the weight, softly pushed herself up again. It didn't assuage that new but familiar ache released inside of her…limbs too relaxed to supersede gravity…too feeble to share what she felt in her current state of suspension.

With a whispered a sigh she became supine. The warmth, the heaviness, the sheltering, must be enough for now. She didn't want to wake up and lose them….

It was just when she'd submitted to defeat that she found herself triumphing, wrapped in an embrace, held steady against an external seismic shift. She was the one on the bottom and then somehow she was the one on the top. Now her legs were free to sprawl as she willed, her body to realign, upon the form beneath her. She was constrained only by the close embrace in which she was still locked.

Sensually testing that bondage, a test threatening to shred the last remnants of her dreamlike trance, she was gently released from its hold. Missing its warmth and security but luxuriating in the utter freedom to do anything she wanted, she found that freedom quickly compromised. Her face was captured in a light though firm clasp and guided forward. She offered no resistance.

"Mmm," she murmured, encountering for the first time something soft and pliable, warm and moist, murmuring against her own lips. She offered up her lips in full measure. Blindly, she kissed…was kissed…. Primal sensation flowed through her, drowning any other awareness except where and how mouths touched and moved against each other.

The urge for connection was integral to every organism, kept it alive. It pulsated so strongly and internally now, deep beneath her skin, deep below her consciousness. She felt connected now…connected but not completed. She must follow where it led. Poised on the cusp of wakefulness…body increasingly stimulated by the voluptuous current it rode, mind continuing to drift in its sensuous trance.

Precariously balanced now….a second seismic shift. Reversal of the process that landed her on top. She came to be lying beneath again…_Mmm_…glad. Not fighting gravity now. Moving in concert. Everything more accommodating, more responsive, unconstrained.

_Don't think. Don't stop. Kiss. Touch. Feel. _

_I need this. Don't you? _

_I was afraid I was dead. Does this prove I'm alive? _

_You're alive. You're alive too._

Answering hands as well as lips…warm too, so warm and knowing, close to tipping the balance from warmth to burn, nothing to douse the flames with if they climbed to the ceiling. _I don't care._ But burning was dangerous. Desire warred with self-preservation. The room was beginning to spin.

She tried to hang on to the make-believe this was nothing but a dream. But the burning…reality was too strong.

"_What the fuck are we doing?_" Zach forcibly pulled away from her and flopped onto his back. Freezing air rushed to fill the sudden yawning gap between them.

Kendall could only lie there in a haze of shock and regret and denial as all the warmth fled, leaving her body ice-cold again. Her eyes opened and then closed. The ceiling spun around the room in taunting circles. She felt so hollow, so empty, so wanting, that she didn't understand how there was room left to ache so much too. When you were empty inside there should be nothing inside you _to_ ache. Maybe it was only an echo. Maybe she wasn't really awake after all. Maybe she had only slipped into another dream…another really, really bad dream, to punish her for the good one.

"Are you all right?" Zach was lying right beside her. Why did his voice sound so far away?

She wondered if her own voice sounded any less remote when she finally found it. "Oh, just fine and dandy, Zach. Just peachy. Can't you tell?"

He turned to his side to face her, and she turned her neck so that she was facing him. Kendall had never seen him this close up before with her eyes open; never close or long enough to particularly notice how his eyes harbored such startling glints of olive and bronze, or how his dark lashes swept his cheeks. It was almost more intimate than anything they'd done. Or not done, really. "And to answer your first question with another one," she added, "isn't that what we _were_ doing?"

Zach was silent.

"But—don't worry, Zach. You can blame this one on me. This is how I react to stress and trauma. You can ask just about anybody in Pine Valley. They'll tell you I—"

"Stop it, Kendall. I'm just as responsible as you," he said intently. "No, more so."

"There you go trying to be a gentleman again," she sighed. "You'd better watch that, Zach. It might become a habit. Don't blame yourself for responding to me when I was using you for a stress reliever. I'll add it to your plus column, though."

"Add which?" Zach asked curiously. "Responding—or blaming myself?"

In spite of herself, Kendall laughed. Then tears unexpectedly came to her eyes and she hastily looked away. The ceiling was still spinning, forcing her to take a deep breath before surreptitiously glancing down at herself. She was still fully dressed except for her shoes, and she could have kicked those off in her sleep. He was fully dressed too. Maybe most of it had been her overactive libido firing her overactive imagination…but she'd never made her own body thrum quite like that.

What _had _come over her, really, Kendall wondered, hopelessly trying to sort things out. In her heart she knew they were nowhere near as uncomplicated as she had told Zach. Otherwise this awkward aftermath would not have been so highly charged. Finally, she replied, "Oh, well, why should we quibble over a little thing like that? I'll just add them both. Satisfied?"

There was a pause before he said, "Is this what we should be talking about, Kendall?"

Rolling off the bed, Kendall started looking for her shoes. "You know what, Zach, you don't really have a plus column—I just made that up. I was feeling magnanimous, but now I don't feel that way, so you're going back on my shit list. That's where you belong." Kendall deliberately set about provoking an argument as the most efficient way to return to safer ground.

Zach sat up, too, but remained on the bed. "That motion was already made and carried."

"No, not because of—of that, Zach. I said I'll take the blame for that. I'm talking about what happened before that. You knew I was upset when I came back up here after J.R. waylaid me downstairs." And once she got started, it wasn't so hard to keep going. "So why the hell did you get in bed with me in the first place?"

His head cocked. "The answer should be obvious, Kendall. Because it is my bed, and I felt like it."

Kendall thrust her left foot into its high-heeled sandal with so much force she almost tore a strap. "No kidding, it's your bed, Zach—but it's not like I had to crawl over an obstacle course to get to it, either. I mean, it's right out in the open. So just because I inadvertently ended up on it didn't mean I was issuing you an invitation."

"Let me explain something else that should be obvious." Zach sounded very patient. "When a woman calls me a dog, I don't usually interpret it as an invitation."

Even with the excuse of not having been fully alert at the time, the fact that she had actually, willingly kissed and been kissed by this snide, hateful man ought to be used against her in an insanity hearing, Kendall berated herself. "Well, that's good, or else you'd get turned down a lot," she snapped. _Except by a genius like me_, she wished she wasn't able to add.

"The bed is wide enough for four people and no, I've never put it to the test. I was tired and you, Kendall, were already asleep."

"So you didn't you just get another room?"

"In my own hotel?" he snorted elegantly. "It didn't seem necessary to humor you that far." Zach made it all sound so reasonable until he added, "And you know what? We woke up on my side of the bed. Any migration was done by you. Which brings us back to where we started."

Kendall found and shoved her right foot violently into her other sandal. "Right. The place where you blew me off, which was my cue to take a cab home. I'll remedy that right now." She stalked to the elevator and then realized she was missing the keycard with which to operate it. _Shit._ She couldn't even make a graceful exit. The day really just kept getting better and better.

"Kendall."

She turned, expecting Zach to at least toss her the keycard so she didn't have to stand there all night.

Instead he said, "It's almost 2:30 a.m. Look. I'll sack out on my office sofa the rest of the night." Standing, he slid his feet into his own shoes and walked around the bed toward the elevator. He pulled the keycard from his slacks pocket, sliding it into the slot. The door silently opened.

Before boarding the elevator, Zach handed Kendall the card. "It's up to you, but I'd make myself at home here. Unless you hope to run into Junior Chandler. I have it on good authority he was still lurking around outside until quite recently."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

This was the second night—or morning—in a row he'd spent tossing and turning on a hard, narrow surface designed only to very temporarily seat posteriors, not to cradle a recumbent full-length human form. Especially not when that form happened to be six-feet-plus and the black leather sofa in his office was barely five feet long, and barely as wide again as his shoulders. Of course, he could have had his pick of any of the guest rooms in the casino. Each featuring at least one king-size bed at the very minimum, with the highest industry standard mattress and bedding. He could have been out like a light in no time.

But this was penance, the best he could do on short notice. Leaving behind the scene of his most recent, returning to the scene of so many previous debacles with Ethan, and seeing what transpired, all while being very, very uncomfortable.

Would Ethan's ghost glide through the paneling, place his hands on his hips, throw his had back and laugh like a movie cavalier of old? Or would Ethan emerge swathed in a heavy black hooded cape that concealed him from head to toe, permitting only an accusatory pointed finger to emerge from a dangling sleeve. How about as the burnt shell of a man dragging himself along the floor as if bearing on his broken back the weight of airplane wreckage….

Zach forced his eyes open, but the room was inhabited only by him in his all too bodily form. No ghostly ones. They were all in his head…almost all.

_Fuck._ That seemed to be Zach's mantra these days. Say but not do.

What was he going to do now? That one little match he'd struck in the darkness only to see by, impersonally if helpfully cupping a hand around its tiny vulnerable flame…not even breathing on it…it had still blazed up in his face as instantly as if applied directly to an open powder keg. Wasn't that how a forest fire started? All it took for effortless arousal of the biggest, most devastating inferno was one tiny point of flame.

Earth, water, air, fire…fire was one of the four elements some ancient determined as essential to form and mold matter into something from which a spark of life could be lit into existence. So if fire was intrinsic to life and if like attracted like how could anyone be held responsible for participating in what was only a natural, innate process? To believe otherwise was as illogical and self-defeating as believing in a god that would create a human being only to condemn him for being human. On the other hand…fertilizer also ignited via a natural process.

_So which way is the trick supposed to work? Play with matches or don't play with matches, either way you get burned._

Giving up on using the sofa for a bed, Zach swung his too-long legs to the floor, leaned back against the seat and craned his neck to look behind him. It was still too early for even a hint of gray to begin edging under the solid black rectangle of sky framed by the window. Sighing, Zach climbed to his feet, stretched his legs, and went to his desk. He'd not accomplished a fucking thing during his earlier attempt. Maybe, in lieu of a cold shower, it would be possible to get some work done now. At least answer some emails. They were piling up. He couldn't ask Edie to field them all, especially not the private ones.

Regretting the uneaten and wasted gourmet dinner now congealing beneath its covers upstairs in his suite, Zach buzzed down the twenty-four hour kitchen and requested a medium-rare cheeseburger and a pot of strong coffee. Feeling slightly better for the food, he worked into the dawn, clearing his email inbox and viewing the latest reports from the department heads.

Security's report included edited digital footage of J.R. Chandler putting on quite a good show of pretending to have a purpose for hanging around, first the fitness area, then branching out to other areas of ingress and egress, then returning to the fitness area. Eventually Security's footage showed J.R. making a call on his cell phone. According to the next time stamp, J.R. was joined some thirty minutes later by two other young men, scruffy looking and otherwise unidentified, who accepted what looked like cash from J.R. Successive footage showed J.R. leaving the casino, by all appearances under the smug impression his minions were holding the fort down.

The next footage revealed the hired minions wandering into the gambling area, exchanging their folding money for coins, and hitting various slot machines. It didn't take them very long to run through f J.R.'s cash. Then, apparently feeling that the end of his money ended their obligation to him, they were next seen furtively exiting the premises. Zach made a mental note to comp the two young men with drinks and dinner if they ever returned. As far as the casino's own surveillance of J.R.'s surveillance indicated, there was no independent corroboration for what were sure to be Junior's further allegations of an affair between Zach and Kendall_. Just let him try._ _Jealous little prick…._

_So would that be him…or you?_ One of Zach's demons piped up, grabbing hold of the metaphorical rug under Zach's desk chair and giving it a yank.

At that point Zach was plunged into the waiting, detailed recollection of the maybe not-so-strange interlude with Kendall in his suite. Apparently it wasn't only those who could not remember the past who were condemned to repeat it. He seemed to be feeling each ill-advised caress again, reliving every ill-advised kiss…as incapable of turning off the flow in retrospect as he had been initially. It confirmed very little had happened, really. _The expense of spirit in a waste of shame is lust in action__1_…and all…all that. So much angst for nothing.

To Zach's relief, a knock came at the door. With his mind so far removed from his locale, he was honestly surprised when Edie entered.

"What are you doing in so early?" he asked.

"Seven-thirty's not that early, boss," she protested. "The light was already on under your door when I got here—no matter how early I arrive, I'll never be able to keep up with you."

_If only you knew_, Zach thought dryly.

Edie continued, "Besides, I thought you were taking some time off. Come on, boss, I though you trusted me to keep an eye on things?"

"Edie, I do. Perfectly." Zach nodded toward the laptop open on his desk. "Everything looks terrific. I appreciate that."

She seemed mollified, and then her eagle gaze fell on the tray on his desk holding the remains of his middle-of-the-night cheeseburger. Her delicately plucked eyebrows rose. "Oh, boss," she said sympathetically. "You were here all night, weren't you?"

Zach shrugged. "Part of it. Clearing the decks."

"Oh? What's on the agenda, boss?"

"I'm flying to Colorado."

It was a decision Zach had just made at that very spur of the moment. Although he hadn't yet received notice regarding Ethan's release from the Medical Examiner's Office he expected that should be imminent. He planned to then have his son cremated before returning him to Pine Valley. While all the arrangements could have been handled long distance, bringing his son home with him was a small final thing Zach could do for the boy who would never accept any favors from his father in life…one last typically ineffectual thing, since Ethan would never know the difference.

"Colorado via Vegas," Zach added. Several months had elapsed since he'd made a personal appearance at the Seasons West. Now it, or rather the timeless land surrounding it, seemed to call to him as a temporary refuge. The stark desert environment had always been one of healing and renewal for him. Perhaps the atmosphere might help clear his head once again. He would fly there first, then pick Ethan in Colorado up on the way home…if Pine Valley could be considered such for either of them.

One of Edie's many virtues was that once you drew her the big picture, she was able to fill in the finer details herself. He didn't need to explain the sequence of events or his reasoning behind them. She grasped them instantly. All she said was, "I've got it covered. Just let me know when you want to take off."

"Thanks, Edie. You know what? There's no time like the present. Have Travel get me out of here around noon or as close as they can get."

Smartly saluting, Edie departed the office, leaving Zach to contemplate what to do between now and then, besides packing a bag and maybe running a razor over his face…should Kendall not still be in his suite. In any event, he needed to talk with her before he left. As the person closest to Ethan before his death, she had a right to know what Zach intended to do. She might even be able to provide some input to make him consider modifying his plan. If she had any, Zach was more than willing to listen to it. Too bad he hadn't asked her before now.

There was a related issue, too: Zach felt there had to be a very strong possibility that the other missing persons—Erica, Bianca, and Jackson—would be located very soon, perhaps even while Zach was en route to Las Vegas. It was almost beyond his comprehension that they hadn't been found yet, much less that the search would still be continuing after he arrived in Denver. If they were found while he was there, however, it would be much easier for him to handle things from there than for Kendall or Greenlee to fly out. But it was something else they needed to discuss.

If he called up to his suite now and Kendall was still there, Zach wondered, would she even answer? The phone would display the incoming number as being his private office extension, so that she would know it was he calling. Well, there was one way to find out. Actually, there were several ways, only Zach was too aware that indirectly checking up on her would piss her off if she got wind of it. He punched in the number to his suite, hoping for the best.

Hanging up after the fourth ring, before the call went into his voicemail box, Zach tiredly rubbed his face. Kendall either was gone, she was asleep—though it was doubtful she would have slept through the ring, as there was a phone beside the bed on the nightstand—or she simply wasn't picking up. Which left one more direct way for him to learn if she was still around. Exiting by the rear, private door, Zach left his office for the elevator.

His suite was empty. Even the wrinkles had been smoothed from the bedclothes. Taking a quick shower, shaving, and changing into a taupe-colored business suit, cream-colored dress shirt and abstract-patterned tie in shades of teal, beige, and cream for his trip, Zach hurriedly laid out a leather duffel bag on the bed and tossed in a few necessities. As he kept a full wardrobe at the ready in Las Vegas, packing was mostly optional. The main purpose of the bag would be to transport the container of Ethan's ashes, a gruesome purpose which Zach tried to put from his mind for now.

Not too many more minutes later, he was on the road to his and Kendall's condo complex. Discovering that she wasn't to be found there either, Zach mumbled a litany of curses at both Kendall, for playing hard to get when he seriously needed to get hold of her, and himself, for his participation in the mangling of the relationship between them leading to her avoidance of him—if avoiding him was what she was in fact doing. Realizing that he had no phone number at which to leave a message for her, Zach simply dashed off a very brief note stating he was flying out to Las Vegas and then to Denver take care of Ethan and to please call him as soon as possible. He included a list of phone numbers through which he might always be reached.

Folding the note over and scrawling "KENDALL" on the outside of it, Zach stuck the paper under her doormat so that the addressed portion stuck up in front of the door. There was no way she could miss it when she came home.

Just as he finished, Zach's cell phone rang with a message from Edie. He'd been booked on a flight. He had just enough time to make it to the airport for the two-hour advance check-in.

1William Shakespeare, "Sonnet CXXIX."


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

Kendall looked around her condo with a mixture of pride, consternation, and eagerness. No longer did the space resemble a stylish but rather sterile spread in a Crate and Barrel catalog. Well, okay…it still resembled a sterile spread in a Crate and Barrel catalog, but one overlaid with the contents from a Sunday paper Babies "R" Us insert.

A maple crib now occupied a corner of Kendall's bedroom. Wedged in beside her own Shaker-style bureau was a maple changing station, whose shelves and drawers were stuffed with blankets, bedding, and a virtual wardrobe of adorable outfits for a feminine little toddler. Feeling quite sure that Miranda would have had her fill of Greenlee's chic green and yellow color scheme by now, Kendall had opted for padding and bedding in a bright multi-colored baby animal print. The designer was anonymous…but it was kind of cute, she thought defensively.

Boxes of Pampers were now stacked in the linen closet and baby toiletries crowded the Fusion bottles on the bathroom vanity. Unbreakable baby dishes were washed and put away in the kitchen cupboards, next to jars of baby food. A highchair was now lined up with the tall stools beneath the kitchen counter, and in the living room a large play pen stood beside the sofa, already filled with an assortment of toys. Miranda should be more than content to remain in it, but just in case she escaped, all unused electrical outlets were covered and all floor level cabinets had locks on them.

Kendall hadn't accomplished it all on her own. She'd dragooned Myrtle Fargate as her baby consultant. She and Myrtle had spent the past two days shopping, baby-proofing, and rearranging the condo to make room for all their purchases once delivered. But considering that she was the one who would be living with and maintaining the new set up, Kendall was more than bit self-satisfied. She was also nervous. Greenlee and Ryan were on the list of her visitors for the day. They were on their way over with Miranda.

_It's been three days. I hope they've calmed down since we last saw each other. At least Zach isn't here to stir things up. But I almost think I'd feel better if he was— _Kendall halted the thought dead in its tracks. From the moment she'd left his casino that morning of their last encounter, she'd been trying to observe a moratorium on even acknowledging Zach Slater's existence. But that didn't mean she couldn't go over to the window and look across the way to check his condo for recent signs of habitation, an action she performed again for possibly the twentieth time in the past two days.

_I just don't want him showing up the same time Greenlee and Ryan do_, she thought defensively. _That would really be just my luck._

Zach's condo still bore its deserted air. So what did it matter anyway—his whereabouts had not previously been any concern of hers; there was no real reason why they should permanently become so now. Grief and fear could make people do strange things. That was a known fact. God only _knew _how strange, if they could throw her into Zach's arms for even those few brief, surreal moments. And for possibly the thirtieth time in the past two days, Kendall found herself violating her own moratorium. Being unable to repeatedly tell Zach where to go was so frustrating, though, especially when she didn't know where he was to begin with.

But living with the unknown fate of her family—and according to Derek Frye, the search was probably going to be called off soon—had become so painfully nerve-wracking that Kendall was having trouble controlling her reactions to anything. Every time the phone rang she jumped, every time she turned on the television or radio, she said a wordless prayer. She was short and snappish with everyone, even Myrtle. Hoping that work might offer some distraction, even the illusion of one, Kendall had tried going to the Fusion office. It didn't help matters, though; she had no tolerance for the routine minor foul-ups it normally fell to her lot to straighten out, and she was impatient with everyone, including customers and potential customers, leading to Simone's tactful suggestion that Kendall take the day off and treat herself to a massage, a facial, and a pedicure. Simone was understandably puzzled when Kendall threw her day planner at her, but Kendall didn't try to explain.

An impenetrable layer of frustration had begun to divide Kendall from nearly everyone and everything…except, hopefully, her niece.

When the Laverys arrived with Miranda, Kendall tried to be on her best behavior. But relations began to sour right from the start, from the moment Greenlee reluctantly allowed Kendall to take Miranda from her arms. As Kendall closed her eyes and hugged Miranda, Miranda's hands went straight to one of her dangly silver chandelier earrings and yanked hard.

"Ouch!" Kendall couldn't help but squeal loudly, which made Miranda's own face screw up in a prelude to tears. Trying to ignore her own pain, Kendall hastily bounced the baby up and down in her arms, but Miranda would not be dissuaded and burst into loud wails.

"Oh, no," Greenlee clucked. Kendall caught her exchanging a glance over Miranda's head with Ryan before reclaiming Miranda from her. "Oh, poor Miranda! Auntie Kendall didn't mean to make you cry, did she? She just doesn't know what to wear around little babies and it just goes to show you that you have better taste than she does, but then who doesn't, and no wonder you tried to pull them off."

"They're gone! See?" Kendall quickly removed both earrings, held them up for inspection, and tossed them on the coffee table. "No more earrings. Miranda's right, they're ugly. Now give Miranda back to me, Greenlee, please. I hardly got to hold her."

"Did you really mean to put those earrings where Miranda could put her hands on them, Kendall?" Ryan asked accusingly.

Turning to him, Kendall asked in surprise, "What? Greenlee is holding her, she can't—"

"Ah, one thing you need to learn about babies, Kendall, is that you can't leave anything to chance," Ryan replied solemnly. "I think we'll just let Greenlee hang on to Miranda for the time being, while you go put the earrings in a safe place."

Kendall bit down on her tongue. "Fine. I'll take them into the bedroom and lock them up in my jewelry box and swallow the key. Why don't you guys come with me and see the furniture I got for Miranda for when she stays with me? She has her own little corner in my bedroom now."

She saw Ryan and Greenlee exchange another glance before Ryan said slowly, "I guess we can do that."

Proudly showing off her and Myrtle's handiwork, Kendall asked, "What do you think? I think Miranda will like it, don't you?"

"It's, er, very nice, Kendall, but…well…."

"But what, Greenlee? Now what's wrong?"

"I think what Greenlee is trying to say is that the furniture is _adequate_, Kendall, but—"

"But really, Kendall, having Miranda sleep in your room with _you_? You can't be serious?" Greenlee asked patronizingly.

"Where else am I supposed to put her, Greenlee—in the living room? The bathroom? I only _have_ one bedroom. What's wrong with Miranda sleeping in there with me? I don't snore or talk in my sleep."

"Speaking of the living room, why don't we all go sit down and talk about this," Ryan suggested.

"_Fine_," Kendall said with even more emphasis. "Go in and make yourselves comfortable and Greenlee, let me have another crack at holding Miranda now." Miranda looked as if her thunderstorm had passed through.

Kendall reached for her niece, but Greenlee demurred. "You'd better take that pendant off before we try it again, Kendall. Frankly that necklace is almost as bad as your earrings, I mean as far as Miranda grabbing for it. She's just really in that curious, grabby stage now, which is why as you may have noticed I'm very simply dressed today."

Trying not to roll her eyes, Kendall replied, "Okay! Necklace is gone. What should I take off next, or do the rest of my clothes pass your inspection before you let me hold my own niece, Greenlee? Maybe you want to pick out a whole new outfit for me?"

"Actually, I'd love to, Kendall, but since every dress in your closet screams _cocktail hour_, re-outfitting you in something Miranda can't destroy with one hand would require a trip to Lacy's, and Ryan and I don't have time for that today."

"Gee, thanks, Greenlee. Look, I don't care about the dress. I just want to hold Miranda before she graduates from high school. Why is that such a big deal? I haven't even seen her for a couple of days!"

"Let's go sit down first, and then I'll hand her to you."

The Laverys' visit continued in the same way…subtle disparagement of every one of Kendall's efforts to make ready for Miranda, extending to her own choice of clothing and jewelry, even to the cheese and crackers she served for refreshment. Greenlee provided the helpful information that the cheese was too high-fat, the crackers were too salty, and it was dangerous to serve such unhealthy finger foods within reach of Miranda when it was so close to her dinner time. Greenlee wouldn't touch it and set a bad example for Miranda, producing instead a box of organic teething biscuits from the satchel Ryan carried. For his part, Ryan ate with relish the food Kendall provided and then critiqued it, until Kendall was ready to scream.

Miranda did manage to spend some time in Kendall's lap, seemingly happy enough to be there, tugging at Kendall's curls for attention and laughing at the funny faces she received in turn. The little girl, however, was the only one who was entirely at ease. With Greenlee and Ryan watching her like hawks, Kendall simply couldn't relax and enjoy the time with Bianca's daughter the way she'd anticipated. Finally Kendall had enough of feeling like the Laverys' hapless prey. That, she decided, was about to change….

When Greenlee and Ryan started to make leaving noises, Kendall spoke up. "There's no reason now you can't leave Miranda with me when you go. What I've done here might not be up to your standards, but even you can't say I'm not prepared for her to stay. And will you please stop looking at each _other_ whenever I say something?"

"No, I don't think Miranda will be staying here without us, Kendall. She'll be leaving when we do," Ryan said, decidedly.

"But Miranda is _used_ to us, Kendall," Greenlee put in earnestly. "You don't want to totally disrupt her world again, do you?"

"Oh, like I did the first time her world was disrupted?" Kendall asked bitterly. "Or the second?"

"_Kendall_! You know I didn't mean it like that. It's just…it's just…."

"Just what, Greenlee? You think I'll give Miranda one of my hoop earrings instead of a teething ring? Or do you think I'll serve her coffee ice cream instead of formula?"

"_Formula_?" Greenlee shuddered. "Kendall, Miranda's not even _on_ formula anymore."

Kendall took a deep breath. "How would I know that, the way you've moved in and taken over? But you weren't born knowing how to take care of a baby, Greenlee. You had to learn, everybody does, and you're still learning. If you can do it, so can I—and I intend to, because it's my turn now."

"And as I recall, Kendall, you were happy to have me 'move in' as you put it because you didn't even have a clue which end was _up_ on a diaper, much less how to actually _apply_ one to a baby's bottom."

"It's not rocket science, especially not if _you_ figured out to do it, Greenlee. And that's all I have to say. I'm not arguing with you any more about this. Miranda is staying with me."

"No, I don't think so," Ryan repeated. Taking Kendall by surprise, he lifted Miranda from her arms in one smooth motion. "What Greenlee has been trying to say, Kendall, which we may as well discuss before we leave rather than delay, is that we are no longer leaving Miranda's home to chance. Greenlee and I are filing a motion to obtain temporary custody of Miranda."

"_What_?" Kendall screamed, scaring Miranda again, who face contorted "Like hell you will! You can't do that, Ryan! Miranda is my niece, not—"

"We can—actually, we already have filed the motion," Greenlee interrupted more gently. "A social worker is coming to interview us later. We knew you'd be upset, but when you think about it, you've got to admit it's the best thing for Miranda. It gives her stability."

"Oh, right, Greenlee. _Right._ Miranda's mother is lost out there somewhere on a frozen mountain top and you think you can give her _stability_?" Kendall felt so sucker-punched she hardly knew what she was saying.

"We can do a better job of giving that to Miranda better than you can, Kendall," Ryan said sternly. "Calm down and you'll realize we're right, as Greenlee said."

"What I realize, Ryan, is you have a judge in your pocket! Just like J.R.—oh my god, now I know why you've been hanging around with him! J.R. sold you a judge!" Kendall was laughing almost hysterically.

"That's not true, Kendall," Greenlee insisted. "We're doing this on the up and up—"

"_Bullshit_," Kendall swore. "I don't believe you, Greenlee. Score one for J.R. My radar must be way off. I never even saw it coming! I don't think even Zach—"

Grimly Ryan said, "Slater's one of the reasons we're doing this, to protect Miranda from him at all costs. You and I were on the same page about that until recently, Kendall—now he seems to have you under a spell."

Kendall scoffed. "Some spell! I haven't seen Zach for days. I don't even know where he is, and guess what? I'm trucking right along. You're just using Zach as an excuse to do what you want to do anyway."

"Oh, Zach's in Las Ve—," Greenlee started to say, before snapping her lips shut on the word.

Kendall whirled on her. "Las Vegas? Zach's in Vegas? How come you know that and I don't, Greenlee?"

"I don't know. I must have heard about it from Derek."

"Slater's location is irrelevant. I just hope to god he stays out there where he belongs," Ryan said tightly. "Now look, Miranda is reacting to the tension in the room. I say we get her out of here before it gets worse. Come on, Greenlee."

Kendall could do nothing but watch, in a state of shock, as Ryan carried Miranda out, and Greenlee followed behind them.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

_I need a lawyer…and not just any lawyer…the best lawyer in town! _Kendall paged frantically through her personal phone book trying to find Livia Cudahy's number. Livia, Derek Frye's sister, was one of the top attorneys not only in Pine Valley but in the entire State of Pennsylvania. She had ably represented Kendall before and Kendall mentally slapped herself for failing to contact Livia from the very beginning.

_You have reached the law offices of Livia Frye Cudahy. We are now closed. Our office hours are from nine a.m. to five p.m. Monday through Friday. If you have an emergency situation please call…._

Hanging up without writing down the emergency number, Kendall was surprised to find that the time was already after five p.m. Although she considered her situation with Miranda and the Laverys an emergency, she doubted that Livia would see it that. Nothing about it was going to change between now and the morning. The call could, and would have to, wait until then.

Rubbing her arms, Kendall wondered what to do with herself now. She had expected to spend a fulfilling evening with Miranda, in what would have been a learning process for them both. Now, the hours stretched emptily ahead. The new baby furniture stood unoccupied and unused, a mocking reminder that Ryan and Greenlee currently held all the cards. Or rather, that they held Miranda.

_Thanks to me being such an idiot, they have possession of Miranda. Possession is supposed to be nine-tenths of the law—with them it's ten-tenths and it's gone to their heads. But Miranda is only Greenlee's first cousin, once removed at that. She's _my_ niece. That's a lot closer than a cousin. And Bianca would _want_ me to have her. Even Zach admitted it. The court's _got_ to recognize it too. _

Kendall took further stock. _Yeah, and they'll probably recognize all the trouble you've been in in your life, too. Face it, Kendall, you're notorious. You were even charged with murder. They won't care why or that you were acquitted…that's now how things work. They'll just see that you're screwed up, and—how did Greenlee put it?—you can't provide stability. You're single, your only child care experience was being Petey Courtland's babysitter for a couple of weeks, and he was twelve years old. Speaking of jobs, depending on what happens with Cambias and how it affects Fusion you might not even have a job for long. Oh, and you live in a tiny one-bedroom condo. Yep, great parent material._

_Greenlee and Ryan have been happily married for over a year and they have a huge apartment with a nursery. Greenlee got all A's in her baby classes and she doesn't need Fusion to support a kid. She's not only got Ryan, she's got a big, fat trust fund. No contest. _

_Oh, Bianca…_please, please_ come home! Miranda belongs with _you_—not with me or with Greenlee! But if you can't…if you can't, please help me because I don't think I can swing this on my own._

Kendall felt this was her lowest moment since the Cambias jet had first been reported missing. One by one, it seemed, fate was taking away all the people who mattered most to her, whether through death, disappearance, or conflict, and she felt very alone. She briefly considered a temporary escape from all her problems, such as calling Simone to see if the other girl wanted to join her for a mindless night on the town, socializing with other people simply out for a good time, dancing and flirting and becoming well-lubricated by Cosmopolitans and White Russians….

_That's all I need, all right, to get drunk in public. A disorderly conduct or a DUI would look great on my record right about now. Hanging out with Simone would absolutely do the trick. She's been arrested so many times she has a cell dedicated to her._

Sighing, Kendall gave up on the potentially disastrous idea and wandered aimlessly into her bedroom. _I suppose I could always clean out a closet or something._ Cleaning out closets had never been on any of Kendall's to-do lists so it was initially only a self-directed gibe. But this chore really did need doing and it wasn't something she could hire a consultant to take care of. Each time she opened the bedroom closet door to be met with the sight of Ethan's suits and shirts hanging forlornly inside, she felt reproached.

Between the gloomy effect of that vision on her and now that of Miranda's still-empty crib, Kendall was painfully aware of how vulnerable she was to self-destructing even by staying quietly at home. Nothing was stopping her from pouring her own White Russians like water and becoming rip-roaring drunk in private. And that wouldn't be good, either. Now more than ever she must stay on her game.

She went to the closet. Way in the back, pushed behind the row of Ethan's suits was his Pullman suitcase, the largest piece of his matched luggage set. Kendall hauled it over to her bed, lifted it to and spread it open over the mattress, then returned to the closet for the first suit to pack. _Check jacket pockets, fold jacket neatly, place folded jacket in bottom of suitcase, do same with trousers…one suit down…six to go_.

Traveling between closet and bed, Kendall methodically worked her way down the rack to the last suit. For the last time, she stuck her hand into an inner breast pocket, to rescue anything of value, sentimental or otherwise, before packing the jacket away. Her hand touched a piece of paper. Withdrawing it, Kendall expected to find some innocuous souvenir…a copy of the meeting schedule Ethan's personal assistant at Cambias provided him with each day, a forgotten sales receipt, maybe even a copy of an old email from her, sent before the heady atmosphere at the very top of Cambias had begun to get the better of Ethan. _If he ever_ had a '_better,'_ she found herself involuntarily thinking.

Unfolded, the paper did appear to be the print-out of an email, but it wasn't an email from her to Ethan. The sheet apparently contained a series of emails crammed one after the other, beginning with the most recent, an email sent from an address she didn't recognize, dated several weeks back, in response to an email sent by Ethan, following below it. Below that exchange followed a prior exchange between him and the same person, extending to the bottom of the page.

With little more than the intent of determining if his correspondent was someone who might need to be notified about Ethan's fate, Kendall began reading. At first, she couldn't quite comprehend what she was reading—the emails' wording seemed like a bad joke—but the nausea rising from the pit of her stomach told her it wasn't.

**From **pyramidschemer2 yahoo. co. uk  
**To** ethan. cambias cambias. com  
**Subject **Re: Re: Re: an update  
My precious devious darling Ethan forgive me for being so  
impatient. I know it will be worth the wait. It's just that it's  
been so long already. But as they say, good things come to  
those who wait so I will expect good things when they do come.  
I still have not heard from your lawyer so do let know when to  
expect word from him. BTW funds are getting a big low again.  
Love as always from me

**From** ethan. cambias cambias. com  
**To** pyramidschemer2 yahoo. co. uk  
**Subject** Re: Re: an update  
I am sorry darling you know I would give almost anything  
to just drop everything and rush to your side but I can't  
leave PV just now. Things a bit sticky with Zach  
(the old bastard) trying to make trouble for me I'm afraid  
I must not take my eye off him too long at the moment  
but have no doubt I will prevail in the end as I have thus  
far then it will all be ours and no more nasty  
complications. Keep the faith darling we'll be together  
soon that I promise.  
All my love Ethan

**From** pyramidschemer2 y ahoo. co. uk  
**To** ethan.cambias cambias. com  
**Subject** Re: an update  
O Ethan each new day without you feels like a year. But the  
funds transfer will help pass some time! ;) Is there any chance  
of you coming to London to see me while I wait for your  
immigration lawyers to work magic for me? I am trying to be  
patient but missing you terribly. I'm even jealous of your  
roommate even though Kendall sounds like a nice guy.  
Love from me

**From** ethan. cambias cambias. com  
**To** pyramidschemer2 yahoo. co. uk  
**Subject** an update  
Darling just a note to come up for air and say I love you and  
miss you. As you already suspected I have been settling into  
Cambias quite, quite successfully. Hope to get dyke  
(and her brat) shipped off to Paris (pulling a few strings!)  
so will have completely free rein soon. Still living with the  
roommate but have got estate agent looking round for  
more suitable digs for me (and you of course!). Have got t  
legal dept. working on your immigration problem so  
just be patient a little longer my darling.

"That fucking _bastard_," Kendall spat. "_Literally_! That goddamn _fucking_ bastard."

So utterly stunned by Ethan's unforeseen duplicity that she was shaking, she seized the suitcase by the handle and, with strength lent by rage, flung the almost full piece of luggage off the bed. Its contents became airborne as it bounced off the crib and hit the floor.

"And I was so worried about him. So worried about Cambias corrupting his noble ideals. Oh my god, what a laugh!" Stomping into the kitchen, Kendall yanked a large trash bag off the roll beneath the sink and stomped back into the bedroom with it.

It was almost impossible to wrap her mind around Ethan being the author of these emails but the proof was there in black and white, straight from his own pocket, condemning him out of his own lying, dead mouth. "So he was two-timing me all along! His _roommate_? He told her I was his _roommate_?" Viciously, Kendall wadded a pair of trousers into a ball and stuffed it into the trash bag, wishing their former own was still in them, and still talking out loud to herself. "Oh, but why am I even assuming pyramidschemer2 _is_ a she? For all I know Ethan played for both teams!"

Kendall kept wadding and stuffing until the suitcase was empty. She then added Ethan's shirts from the closet and his socks and underwear from her bureau, and dragged the loaded bag through the living room. Trash was picked up daily outside residents' doors. When the complex custodian came by for hers early the next morning, Kendall hoped that carrying the heavy bag full of extra-extra-long suits out to the dumpster didn't give him a hernia, too. But if it did she'd pay the medical bills. She knew it was a waste of more than perfectly good clothing, and she didn't care about that either. She needed to remove all evidence of Ethan while the adrenaline was still flowing through her system.

After that, well…if anything called for a drink, this did. As long as it was not Courvoisier XO. But even if she could have afforded to splurge on one small White Russian, she probably didn't have any Kahlua or vodka or cream anyway.

Preparing to give the bag the mightiest toss her slender arms were capable of achieving, Kendall let fly with it. She noted with satisfaction that she managed to land it halfway between her front door and the common wall between her condo and the next adjoining one. "Go to hell and stay there!" she screamed at it. "I only wish I could stuff Ryan and Greenlee in there to rot along with you!"

A long, low, whistle ensued close behind her from the other direction. Abruptly and embarrassingly aware that she'd had a witness to her tantrum, Kendall sheepishly turned around. _Of course_! Zach stood in front of his door, a leather satchel by his foot and his head cocked as if he found the scene interesting.

"What are you looking at?" she snapped.

"You," he said simply.

"Maybe I should sell tickets."

"I don't see Hefty Bag heaving making its mark as a field event, but you know what? If you were part of the field I'd pay to see it."

"Fuck you, Zach. Just fuck you." Kendall felt dangerously close to tears. _Not again. Oh, no. Not again. _She inhaled and exhaled slowly. "I'm sorry. I haven't had a good day."

"Neither have I." Zach sounded very weary. "Mind telling me what's in the bag?"

"Ethan," Kendall said bluntly. "Or rather, all this things."

"What happened?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself about. I just had a wake-up call, that's all. Better late than never, huh?"

"Kendall, we need to talk—"

"I'm not up for chatting about it. Not now anyway. And if you're just home from Las Vegas, you're probably not either."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Zach said, "Got it. And you're right. I'm not. We'll talk later. But I do want to know one thing. Why didn't you call me?"

"How could I, Zach? I didn't even know where you were until Greenlee mentioned a little while ago you were in Vegas."

Zack looked honestly puzzled. "That's odd. Kendall, I left you a note under your mat."

"I didn't get a note, Zach. What did it say?"

"Where I was going and why, and that we needed to talk. I certainly didn't discuss it with Greenlee."

A bad—or worse—feeling began to steal over Kendall. "It must have been intercepted and I'll deal with that later. Right now you'd better tell me why you went."

Zach sighed. "Kendall, I didn't just go to Vegas. I went to Denver too. You didn't ask what I had in _my_ bag."

Kendall froze. "Zach, no. No. It's not…."

He looked at her with an almost apologetic expression on his face. "I'm afraid so, Kendall. It's Ethan."


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

The waiting room of Livia Frye Cudahy, Esq., was decorated in soothing blues and greens, populated by numerous flowering plants, and furnished with groups of wing-back chairs separated by end tables on which the most recent editions of weekly news and entertainment magazines were discreetly fanned. A credenza in the corner held an elegant coffee and tea service for those in need of caffeine. Kendall perched anxiously on the edge of her chair, staring straight ahead and feeling in need of a sedative.

Not even attempting to make an appointment first, Kendall had just shown up at eight forty-five a.m., prepared to make a scene if Livia couldn't or wouldn't squeeze her into her schedule. Fortunately, her receptionist confirmed that Livia did have a ten a.m. opening, which Kendall now awaited with every cell in her body holding its breath while her mind worked overtime. With her gaze locked permanently on the waiting room wall clock, her thoughts kept returning to the night before.

Once more she and Zach had been forced to ignore their most recent differences and, no doubt temporarily, align for their common benefit. Even though, for god's sake, he'd come home carrying _Ethan_—or rather, Ethan's ashes. As disconcerting as that discovery was, though, it had acted to somewhat help defuse her anger and hurt toward Ethan.

Ethan was really dead…and Kendall realized any negative impact from his faithless conduct needed to follow his pitiful remains into the grave. However she chose to move on with her life from now on, her own conscience could be clear: Ethan himself had guaranteed that. Had Zach not caught her in the act of tossing Ethan's belongings, she would have remained silent about it forever, but she'd been forced to explain. To Kendall's surprise, Zach had wanted to see the emails when she described them; she had told him to keep them.

Really, only one thing mattered now and that, of course, was the reason Kendall was camped out in Livia's waiting room. Miranda was all that _could_ matter from now on. Because last night, after Zach had told her he still wanted her input, and they had sat down together in his condo and agreed to a quiet, private burial in the Pine Valley Cemetery for Ethan, Zach had then gently disclosed there was more news to break. "They've officially ended the search for your mother and sister and Jackson. I'm sorry, Kendall."

And Zach had sounded very sorry indeed…Kendall had never seen such genuine anguish cross his face, not even when Derek delivered the news about Ethan. Yet it didn't comfort her. Nothing else could have more unequivocally signaled the end of all hope.

After days of living with excruciating suspense it might even have come as some relief. After all, no rational person could have expected Bianca, Erica, and Jack to survive all those days and nights in the snowy wilderness, even if they'd survived the plane crash. But though Kendall had never been particularly rational, she had limits. The day had already seen her expend most of her energy on outrage at Greenlee, Ryan, and Ethan. Though this shock surpassed all else, Kendall had few resources left with which to absorb it before it began to crush her.

She had been virtually unable to voice any response, beyond an audible sucking in of her breath after the falling of the blow, as the walls of the room seemed to cave in slow motion in her direction.

"Kendall?" Zach had finally asked. "Did you hear me?"

She'd managed to nod.

"I know it's too soon now. But eventually plans must be made and carried out. I want you to call on me for anything you need."

The generous offer hadn't even surprised her. Nothing seemed real anyway. Again, she'd merely nodded, ending the discussion by default because there was nothing more to say.

Kendall hardly remembered returning home, except at some point she'd managed to arise from her seat and make her way across the courtyard to her own home. The rest of the evening was a blur. Only an awareness, at her most fundamental level, that consulting with Livia Frye as soon as possible was essential to her and Miranda's future, enabled Kendall to function at all.

The receptionist broke into Kendall's reverie. "Ms. Hart? Ms. Cudahy can see you now."

After giving Kendall a warm hug and expressing sincere sorrow at the loss of so much of Kendall's family, Livia was typically blunt and to the point about Kendall's immediate problem. "Are you telling me that Bianca didn't leave a will?"

Kendall shook her head. "Not as far as I know. I don't think the need for one ever even occurred to Bianca. She…she was so young."

"And it didn't occur to Jack once Bianca had Miranda? I just want to make sure this whole situation can't be resolved in a straightforward way before we're forced to go the custody battle route."

Kendall shivered. "I'm sure Jack thought if anything happened to Bianca, Erica would automatically look after Miranda, with me as backup. Nobody ever expected…and nobody ever expected Greenlee of all people to stick her nose into it."

Leaning back in her chair, Livia looked very sober. "You said Greenlee and Ryan were filing for temporary custody, but I'm afraid the stakes have been raised. Since it's become a matter of permanent custody, would you say it's safe to assume that's what they'll ultimately be going for?"

"Oh, yes, definitely. They think Miranda is better off with them, and maybe she is, but damn it, Livia—Bianca was _my_ sister and Miranda is her child."

Livia's expression softened. "And I of all people certainly know how much you love your sister, Kendall. You were willing to give your life for her when you accepted the rap for Michael Cambias' murder. I can't imagine Bianca ever wanting Greenlee to raise Miranda unless there was absolutely no one else available. If Bianca couldn't do it herself, she'd want you to."

With great difficulty, Kendall held back her tears. "That's how I feel and also why I'm doing this, Livia. It's not just what I want; it's what Bianca would want. But is that enough?"

The attorney didn't pretend not to understand. "Kendall, I don't know. I don't need to tell you that in a custody battle, each side typically undergoes a potentially very bruising assessment by representatives of the court as well as by the judge to determine which is in the child's best interests."

Giving a bitter little laugh, Kendall replied, "And my assessment would be bruising, all right. I make Ryan and Greenlee look like Mike and Carol Brady."

"To be completely frank and honest with you, Kendall, because I've known you for a long, long time and I couldn't be anything less—I would expect your history to be used against you."

"But I've cleaned up my act, Livia!" Kendall said earnestly. "I was even friends with Ryan and Greenlee before this happened. I have a good career, I can afford to support Miranda the same way Bianca did, and my place isn't huge, but I've got things in place for a baby. I wasn't planning to live there forever, anyway. As soon as I could I'd move to a bigger place."

Livia sighed. "Kendall, all that would be taken into consideration, believe me. But as a married couple, the Laverys have a built-in support system you lack, and there's no question of a—well, of an inappropriate, shall we say, man spending the night under the same roof as Miranda, or—"

"Stop right there, Livia!" Kendall cried. "I would never do that to Miranda!"

"I believe you, Kendall. But if this turns into the court battle I expect that it will if the Laverys are as determined as you, it's not a matter of what I believe. Let me tell you right now, you must expect some very ugly mud-slinging about your past record and some very ugly innuendo as long as the possibility still exists."

Kendall looked at her beseechingly. "Then Livia, what can I do? It sounds completely hopeless already and I thought for sure you could _help_ me."

"Few things are completely hopeless, Kendall," Livia told her bracingly. "I'm trying to prepare you for what you'll most likely be facing. Yes, it'll probably get mean. But trust me—I can be just as mean. So if you want me, you got me. I can file a competing motion today for Miranda's custody with the family court. We won't know where we stand until I do."

"What happens to Miranda then? I mean, she won't go to a foster home or anything like that while Greenlee duke it out, will she?" Kendall asked apprehensively.

"Not if you don't force the issue that far."

"Of course I won't!" Kendall shuddered. "But I do want them to let me see more of her before she forgets who I am."

Livia smiled. "I'll do my best, Kendall. I promise you that. As I said, I'll get on it today."

"_Thanks_. Thanks, I don't know what I'd do without you. One more thing, about…about Bianca and Erica. Not that I want to rush this but I—I don't want to put off asking about it either. I know it'll never get any easier. Since the search was ended and they weren't found…what happens next, legally, I mean?" Kendall felt as if each one of those words was dragged from her with fishhooks on it.

"Without signed death certificates, we'll have to petition the court to have Bianca and Erica declared dead," Livia replied in a businesslike manner. "Is that something else you'd like me to initiate?"

"No. Not—not yet." Kendall shuddered again. "I was just asking."

"All right. Let's focus on Miranda's custody right now. If it becomes an issue there, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Kendall left Livia's office feeling little better than she had upon entering it. Livia had not pulled any punches, and it wasn't very reassuring. It seemed that in fighting off the Laverys' bid for custody of Miranda, not only would all of Kendall's old chickens be coming home to roost again, but she would be facing off against the very two people who best knew how to make those chickens squawk loudest and longest. And while they were squawking, all her current flock of chicks would be placed under a heat lamp and encouraged to grow.

_I can't do anything about my past. What's done is done…I can only show I'm not like that anymore. But they'll still get me on it…and they'll get me because I'm not_ stable_…but just because I don't come complete with a nursery or a husband doesn't mean I can't be a good mother to Miranda. I finally had a good relationship with Erica. Look at Greenlee's relationship with _her_ mother! _The appalling Mary Smythe…but Kendall knew she couldn't use that against Greenlee; it wasn't Greenlee's fault her mother was a greedy, vain, shallow bitch. _But if you don't use_ everything_ you've got, they'll back over you after running over you._

As she drove away from Livia's office building, Kendall found herself with no clear idea of where to go next. A report about the search ending unsuccessfully had been released; it was now a top news item, meaning she would be besieged by reporters again when she went home. She couldn't bear to go home to a fresh round of phone messages, anyway. Myrtle Fargate's compassionate face suddenly floated into her mind's eye. Of course! Where else would she go at a time like this but to her grandmother's and her mother's oldest, dearest friend? With a profound sense of relief that she wasn't as all alone as she'd felt, Kendall drove to Myrtle's boardinghouse.

"Kendall, darlin'!" Myrtle greeted her with the most unrestrained emotion and high-pressure hug Kendall had ever received from her. "I'm so glad you came to me. This is a sad, sad day for us all. One of the saddest I've ever seen."

All Kendall could say, brokenly, was, "I know, Myrtle. I know."

Finally ending the embrace, Myrtle sniffed loudly. "Come into the kitchen, honey. Opal just left. She brought some coffee cake, and I was just putting on a fresh pot of coffee." Myrtle's eyes were red and swollen, and she continued to sniffle after each sentence.

Kendall knew exactly how she felt.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

Once Kendall and Myrtle were settled in the kitchen with cups of coffee and plates of coffee cake before them, Myrtle went on, "Honey, just remember, your mother's spirit will live on just like Mona's, god rest her soul, lives on. Bianca's too. They're all together again."

"Myrtle…please…I can't handle thinking that way yet, I just can't," Kendall mumbled.

"I understand, honey. I'm just an old woman who's had a lot more time to think of things like this so I'm used to thinking this way. You drink your coffee and eat a bit of that cake. If I know you, you haven't eaten a bite since yesterday."

Forcing herself to eat, Kendall replied, "The—the cake is good. I guess I should call Opal and Palmer, huh? But I just…I'm just not ready."

"Give yourself time, Kendall. They understand, and they're devastated too," Myrtle sighed. "Opal and I were talking, though. Kendall honey, when you are a little more ready, you know your mother would want a huge send-off, and Opal and I are good at that kind of thing, and Opal would love to host it at Courtlandt Manor."

Kendall hardly seemed to hear or comprehend. "She would? That's nice. Maybe I'll—maybe I'll let her do that then, and if you'll help, Myrtle…you always seem to know what the right thing to do is….."

"Of course I will, honey." Myrtle patted Kendall's hand. "You just leave it to us if you want to, darlin'. Please don't feel like you're in this alone."

'Thank you." Putting down her coffee cup, Kendall said slowly, "You'll never guess who else offered to help me."

"Why, I don't know who that could be, Kendall—but if I may I'll guess it was Adam Chandler? He always loved your mother. Or maybe Brooke English? Now, Brooke and your mother had their differences over the years, but deep down inside, they respected each other. Or Greenlee and Ryan—they'll be needing to plan a service too, for Jack—"

"No, it wasn't Brooke or Adam who offered. And it sure as hell wasn't Ryan and Greenlee. Myrtle…," Kendall hesitated, wondering what the other woman's reaction would be, "it was Zach Slater."

"_Zach_?" Myrtle exclaimed in unfeigned astonishment. "Why, honey, I couldn't be any more surprised! Not at him for making the offer because he loved Bianca, but at you for even listening to it."

"Well, things between Zach and me have…improved a little," Kendall admitted.

Fervently, Myrtle said, "I'm so glad to hear it! What did you tell Zach, if I may pry?"

"I didn't say anything, Myrtle. I guess. I was too upset after he told me the search had been called off. I think I just kind of nodded."

"Well, I'll see what he had in mind," Myrtle responded thoughtfully. "Now, Kendall honey, what's this about Greenlee and Ryan? Why wouldn't they want to help you?"

"Oh, Myrtle!" Placing her elbows on the table and cupping her face in her hands, Kendall tried not to lose whatever small amount of control she still possessed. Myrtle waited silently until Kendall was able to say, "Things couldn't be worse with them right now."

"You told me they were being persnickety about Miranda; of course that's why we had to outfit your place. Is that business _still_ going on?"

"They brought Miranda over for a visit yesterday, Myrtle, and they turned their noses up everything we did—nothing was good enough in their eyes. They don't trust me with Miranda, and they say I have the wrong lifestyle for a baby."

Rarely having seen soul-of-reason Myrtle explode in anger, Kendall was unprepared when the older woman did just that. "Why, those two presumptuous young scamps—!" Myrtle pounded the table in emphasis, making Kendall jump.

"I haven't even told you the worst part of it, Myrtle! They're filing for _custody_ of Miranda. It was supposed to only be temporary, but now…there's no way they'll leave it like that. They're going to go for the whole enchilada."

Myrtle's reaction continued to remind Kendall of an elderly but still very fierce mother lion. "Those two selfish young scalawags deserve to be _horse-whipped_ for putting you through this, Kendall! Why, you're Miranda's blood relative! They can't just take her away from you without a by-your-leave! Surely there must be something you can do to stop them?"

"I don't know," Kendall said doubtfully. "Greenlee is related to Miranda too, don't forget, Myrtle. And I went to see Livia Cudahy before I came here. She made it sound like I'm really going to be fighting an uphill battle."

"Kendall, for what it's worth, I'll be battling with you—I'll be right behind you, pushing you uphill just as hard as these two old arms can push," Myrtle vowed loyally.

"That's worth a lot, Myrtle. Now at least I don't feel so hopeless and alone. But everything else has turned to shit, so I'm not very optimistic. If this goes to court, Livia made it sound like I'll be crucified."

Even Myrtle had no answer for that. She was as well aware of Kendall's troubled history as anyone in town. The two women sat together glumly until the coffee ran out, neither of them capable of cheering the other up, neither of them capable of being cheered. At last Myrtle said, " Kendall honey, I don't mean to distress you by asking this, but you said you were on better terms with Zach, so I will. What does he have to say about this?"

"Do you know I haven't even told him about it? So he probably doesn't know. Zach was pretty whipped when I saw him last night, Myrtle. Ethan was released by the coroner's office or whatever it is and Zach went out west to get Ethan's—ashes—and was just getting home."

A horrified expression froze Myrtle's features, and she reached for Kendall's hand again. "Oh, darlin', I'm so sorry!"

"Be sorry for Zach, Myrtle, not me," said Kendall a little stiffly. "I don't want to get into it now but I found out Ethan was playing me. And the hits just keep right on coming."

"I won't say a word then until you're ready to talk about it, honey. Now back to what I was about to say about our friend Zach—" With the perfect timing that usually occurs only in fiction, Myrtle's words were interrupted by a knock at the front door.

"I don't care who it is, Myrtle!" Kendall called frantically from the kitchen after Myrtle left the room to greet the caller. "I don't want to see anybody so please, I'm not here, you haven't seen me, and you don't know where I am!"

Myrtle's voice called from the living room. "It's all right, Kendall honey. Why don't you come on out here now? We'll be more comfortable."

Kendall was stunned to see Zach with Myrtle, who was all of a sudden beaming.

"Mr. Zach Slater, your ears must be burning. We were just talking about you," Myrtle was informing him, with a flirtatious twinkle in her eye that he always seemed to evoke.

"What are you doing here, Zach?" A puzzled Kendall asked and then, in more trepidation, "Did something else happen?"

"No," he said quickly. "I dropped by to see how Myrtle was." Turning back to Myrtle, he added with the tiniest twinkle of his own, "I trust you were saying only good things."

"Yes, we were," Myrtle said firmly. "Please sit down, Zach, and you too, Kendall. Zach, Kendall was telling me about Ethan. I can't tell you how very sorry I am."

Obeying Myrtle's order couched as an invitation, Zach replied quietly, "Thank you, Myrtle."

"If you're planning to hold a memorial service for the poor boy, I'd be honored to come."

"Then I'd be honored to have you, Myrtle. Last night Kendall and I talked briefly about arranging a very small, private ceremony for Ethan. I will let you know when the details are complete."

"I hope you will, Zach, and I hope you were planning to stay for a little while now. Kendall has something else she needs to discuss with you, don't you, Kendall? Something you couldn't talk about last night."

The awkwardness Kendall still expected to experience in Zach's company hadn't yet materialized—a small blessing for which she neglected to feel grateful in the overall scheme of things. But Kendall couldn't even work up any indignation about Myrtle admitting Zach despite her express wishes to avoid any visitors. She couldn't seem to work up her voice, either.

"What is it, Kendall?" Zach asked her directly.

Kendall was still trying to figure out how, even though their most recent encounter prior to last night's—which circumstances had intervened in to place on neutral footing—had ended so disastrously, Zach didn't seem to count as someone to be avoided.

"Ryan and Greenlee came to see me yesterday, with Miranda. I said I wanted Miranda to stay with me because Myrtle and I had gotten my condo all ready for her. They said it didn't matter because they decided they were filing for custody and then they took Miranda home with them."

Was it because there was not a trace of arrogance in Zach's manner that she'd let down every single one of her defenses? Kendall wondered. Was it because he sat there looking at her as if he for once recognized her as a fellow human being? But no, that latter wasn't quite true. This was the way he'd looked at her last night, too. And maybe at other times as well, if she was really going to be fair about it.

"That doesn't come as a surprise," Zach said rather expressionlessly. "Does it?"

"But it's terrible, Zach, that Bianca's daughter isn't already with Kendall!" Myrtle spoke up. "Kendall is Miranda's closest relative, you know, except as I was about to remind Kendall before you arrived, for _you_. Isn't there something you can do, Zach honey?"

Kendall objected, "Myrtle—Zach has enough problems already, I mean with Ethan, to worry about my problems."

"Well, unfortunately, that problem is now solved." Zach's voice sounded distant.

Nothing was going to deter Myrtle. "I would expect that tobe the veryreason you would help Kendall, Zach. I know you loved Bianca as much as I did. But there wasn't much love lost between Bianca and Greenlee, and she'd never allow Greenlee to raise her daughter if there was any other alternative. Why, she'd have rather had _you_—" And then Myrtle seemed to realize she'd said too much after all.

Myrtle's lapse didn't appear to bother Zach. "I did love and admire Bianca very much and the feeling wasn't mutual," he said frankly.

"Because you loved Bianca then, Zach, and because you are Miranda's uncle, you _must_ help Kendall in this. Why, I believe you're the only one really who can help her now," Myrtle insisted.

"Please, Myrtle," Kendall said suddenly. "Don't put Zach on the spot." _Stop badgering him,_ _Myrtle,_ she wanted to say. _He's in no better shape than I am, can't you see that?_ _I know you mean well and I love you for it but_….

"Kendall, honey, that's not what I'm doing!" Myrtle sounded hurt.

Reaching over to her, Zach touched Myrtle's hand. "I know that, Myrtle. Perhaps Kendall isn't eager for my help."

"Why, that's silly, Zach. Of course she is!" Myrtle disagreed.

"I haven't heard her ask for it again, but in case it's necessary I will repeat what I've already told Kendall, and the custody issue doesn't change this. I will fully support what Bianca would have wanted. Unless, Kendall, you feel my help would be counterproductive—?" Zach addressed her again.

For the first time in their acquaintance, and in her own heightened state of vulnerability, Kendall was sensitive to an unfamiliar undercurrent of vulnerability in Zach's voice, subtle though it was. Enlightenment hit her like a sledgehammer. _Oh my god, he's afraid I'll turn down his help because of everything that's happened between us_, she realized in confusion. _And I'm afraid to turn to him now because…because…oh, shit, I don't even _know_ why!_ _Because—because that dream thing was _my _fault? _Kendall gulped.

Even though Myrtle sat closer to her than Zach did, Kendall felt as though Zach was the only other person in the room when she said, "That's not how I feel at all, Zach, and of course it's not necessary to repeat what you said before about supporting Bianca's wishes."

"There now, what did I tell you, Zach honey?" Myrtle asked, sounding pleased.

"But look, I took a real beating from Greenlee and Ryan yesterday and I'll be taking an even bigger one when I file custody," Kendall continued, again focusing solely on Zach. "So I'm probably expecting too much—but maybe I actually want you to actually _think_ I'm the better choice for Miranda over them—not just that you know it's what Bianca would have wanted."

_Where did _that_ come from?_ Instantly regretting making such a blatantly needy statement, to Zach no less—since when did she care what he thought?—Kendall stood, catching Myrtle and even Zach off-guard. "I, um, I have to go now. Myrtle, thanks for everything—for everything you're doing, I love you for it. And Zach, I–I guess I'll see you later."

Before either one of them had the chance to respond to her abrupt announcement, Kendall grabbed her purse and fled.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

To Kendall's extreme consternation, she found J.R. waiting for her when she returned home. He was sitting in her condo as satisfied as a big spider that'd just finished putting the finishing touches on its masterpiece of a web.

"Don't tell me. Your old buddy the guard let you in," Kendall said wearily to him. "Enjoy your stay. I'm going in to take a nap, and don't even think about joining me because I'm putting Miranda's crib against the door. I'm sure you already know she won't be using it any time soon."

J.R.'s face assumed a pious expression. "I would never do that, Kendall. Sorry about dropping in on you so unexpectedly, but my pal said you were out and I was afraid you wouldn't let me in when you came back. I seized the opportunity to wait and offer my condolences."

"Well, J.R., good for you. Condolences received. Now why don't you seize yourself by the dick and follow it out of here since it's the only part you think with," Kendall retorted rudely. "I'm already having a shitty day and you're making it even worse."

Though the expression slipped a little, it still held. "I understand that times are tough, Kendall, so I'll ignore the phraseology. In fact, it gets crudely but effectively to the heart of the reason I'm here."

"Sorry, I'm not and never have been interested in your dick. Now get out before I call the police and have you arrested."

"Why bother when we both know it won't stick?" J.R. asked reasonably. "Just like my parking and speeding citations got dismissed."

Kendall frowned. "Then just say what you came here to say and get it over with, J.R."

This was clearly the moment J.R. had been waiting for and he didn't waste the dramatic potential. "It's very simple. I have a deal for you, Kendall. Give me what I want and I'll give you Miranda."

"I need to sit down for this one." Kendall took the chair opposite J.R. "Are you serious, and just how do you propose to do that? Greenlee and Ryan have Miranda under lock and key and soon, custody order."

J.R. smirked. "So what? What's a little thing like a court order to a Chandler? They're like laundry tickets to us."

Beginning to feel as though sticky, sneaky filaments were creeping across the floor toward her, Kendall shook her head to clear her vision. "I wouldn't think it's a little thing when the order belongs to friends of yours, and you were certainly friendly with Greenlee and Ryan the last time I saw you with them. How do you think they would they feel about this?"

"Oh, I'm sure they'd understand when I admit to being mistaken about all the times I saw you with Slater—that it was all innocent just like you said. That I never saw the two of you together in your nightclothes, and that it wasn't really you whom I saw going up to Slater's room at the casino and not coming down until the wee small hours."

"You don't think they can tell when they're being bullshitted, J.R.?"

He shrugged. "If Ryan and Greenlee claim to be your friends, they should be glad I can clear your good name. They shouldn't want it to be sullied any more than I do."

"My good name, huh?" Kendall repeated. "I'm so touched by your concern for it, J.R. Okay, let's say you buy me a court order, all dressed up with retractions of your lies, and I get Miranda. Do I even need to ask what you get out of this?"

"Me," J.R. said promptly. "You know I've always wanted you, Kendall. And I'll make it worth your while, both yours and Miranda's. I was a good father to her when my whore of an ex-wife pretended she was my child. I'd be good to you both."

Kendall heard herself laughing cynically. "I don't look good in blackmail, J.R."

"Don't think of it as _blackmail_, Kendall," he urged. "It's not that at all. Think of it as—inducement. We both get something we want and Miranda is the biggest winner. She gets you for a mommy, she gets me for a daddy, and she even gets a baby brother in Adam Chandler the third. And after I adopt her she also becomes co-heir to my share of the Chandler estate."

"So…'Unto her that hath, shall be given.' Doesn't the quotation go something like that? I'm not really up on the bible. But Cambias _and_ Chandler—Miranda really hits the jackpot."

"Something like that. And trust me, Kendall—I'm not stingy."

Kendall paused. "But that's the problem, J.R. I don't trust you. I don't trust you at all. Let's just discuss what happens if I don't agree to your little plan, shall we?"

"Oh, you can call it a proposal, not a plan. To recap, if you agree, I would make you Mrs. Adam Chandler, Jr. No one would be able to touch you then. Except me," he smirked again. "Mr. and Mrs. Adam Chandler, Jr., and their little girl, Miranda Chandler. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

_How could I have ever thought J.R. was a nice boy_, Kendall asked herself in wonderment. _Between him and Ryan and Ethan my judgment must completely suck. Maybe I should stick with _men_ from now on_. "If I don't agree? If Miranda remains Miranda Montgomery and I remain Kendall Hart?"

"Then I must regret to inform you that Miranda turns into Miranda Lavery. You see, Kendall, if you marry me, you both win everything in the jackpot. If you don't marry me, then I'll have no choice but to put my former daughter's welfare first and back up the Laverys' suit."

"And, not incidentally, stick it to me."

"Come on, Kendall. If I were asked, how could I deny my concerns about Miranda living with an unmarried woman who entertains male visitors overnight in her home, who's liable to just go off and spend the night with a man in some hotel whenever she feels like it? Could I deny Miranda wouldn't be better off in a traditional family values home with married parents—even if it wasn't _my_ home?"

"Bianca proved just how possible it was to be a successful single, career-oriented mother. So you could deny it. You just won't."

"Very true and you catch on fast. But let's face it, Kendall, Miranda was Bianca's baby to begin with. But if she weren't—well, Miranda's mother had a spotless personal record. She didn't keep going around shacking up with the first available man, either."

Kendall was galled almost beyond words by his insensitivity. "No shit, J.R. But neither have I, despite what you keep trying to imply—"

"Two words, Kendall," J.R. interrupted. "_Zach Slater_." He leaned back against the sofa cushions, raised his arms above his head, and stretched lazily before relaxing his body. "At least, that's what I'd be obligated to tell the court if I was called to testify and I could probably arrange it so I was called. Especially since I've gone to _all_ this trouble gathering evidence."

"Probably you could," Kendall agreed, feeling completely shafted yet determined not to let J.R. see how accurate his aim had been. "Well, thank you for spelling it all out so succinctly. Now we know exactly where we stand, don't we?"

J.R. nodded sagely. "I hope, Kendall, we do know exactly where we stand now, and exactly where we'll be sitting _and_ lying down—_together_. You see, I'm confident you'll accept my offer. It's a win-win deal for both of us. You get what you want, I get what I want, and nobody loses."

"How long would you give me to think about it?" Kendall asked curiously.

Glancing at his wrist-watch, he replied, "It's almost noon. I prefer not to dawdle but I'd hate for you to feel rushed into anything either, so…I'll give you until noon tomorrow, Kendall. Twenty-four hours."

"How would you want me to deliver my answer? Signed in blood or will ink do?" Kendall asked with sarcasm she was unable to conceal.

A calculating smile split the lower half of J.R.'s face. "As long as you sign your name to the answer I want, I don't care what you use, Kendall.

Shefelt as trapped and helpless as a fly about to wrapped in layer upon layer of deadly strands of white silk. "If that's all the time you'll give me, then you'll have my answer then. Just one question though—what if I go to Greenlee and Ryan and tell them you're blackmailing me and screwing them at the same time?"

"That makes me so sound so dexterous! Dad would be proud," J.R. said fondly. "Tell them, I don't care. There won't be one fucking thing they can do about it."

_Livia,_ Kendall was thinking, _I've got to tell Livia about this._ But her next thought was a deflated, _Why? What can she do? It's my word against J.R.'s. All the ammunition he'd use against me is the same ammunition Greenlee and Ryan would use. He's only upping the stakes, for his own gain._

"So, Kendall, you're silent; what's it to be? Shall I expect to be made a very happy man when I receive your assent to my proposal sometime within the next twenty-four hours?" J.R. leaned forward. "Or would you rather end the suspense for both of us and give me a 'yes' before I leave?"

"No way," Kendall said without thinking. "No flipping way."

J.R. climbed to his feet and headed to the door. "I'll be back for your final answer. I'm sure you'll come around to my way of thinking. Kendall, think of it this way: I'm your only chance to get custody of Miranda. That should help you make up your mind."

The situation seemed truly hopeless. J.R. had her over a barrel. Kendall could come up with no way around his terms, other than letting the Laverys keep Miranda. "Oh, Bianca," she cried, burying her head against he back of her chair. "What should I do? What would be best for Miranda? How can I raise her under the Chandlers' roof? I mean, that's why you refused to throw the book at Babe for stealing Miranda in the first place—you knew if J.R. got custody of his own son by it, he would destroy that baby's soul. You wouldn't want Miranda raised in the same environment! But…at least I'd _be_ there. If Greenlee and Ryan get Miranda, then I'm not there at all. I'd never have any say again in what happened to her."

Each time she didn't think it was possible to feel any more alone, Kendall found out that it was very possible indeed. It was not only possible—it was inevitable. Just how much more was she supposed to endure before whatever cruel hand kept piling it on decided that she'd had enough?

And then, it was almost as if Kendall could hear her mother's voice in her ear, "Stop sitting around feeling sorry for yourself, my girl! You're a Kane woman. Use it! Adam Chandler never got the better of me. Don't let his son get the better of my daughter. J.R. may think he's a big catch, but Pine Valley is a _very _small pond. You must think beyond its shores. There's a great big ocean out there, Kendall. Spread out and start fishing!"

The voice could have been that of Erica's spirit, or it could have been that of Kendall's own higher spirit, drawn to the edge of her consciousness by Kendall's acute need, speaking to her in her mother's voice, a voice it knew that Kendall would heed. Whoever's voice it was, it had the desired effect.

"You're right. I'm a Kane woman. I've got to start acting like it," Kendall told it with growing energy. "When you're as low as you can go there's only one direction left and that's _up_. If I give up now I'll never be worthy of the Kane name again. In twenty-four hours J.R. comes back expecting me to roll over in his direction and _beg_. If I can't find a better solution than _his_ for getting Miranda, then my name isn't Kendall and if you rearrange the letters in my name they spell _Kaned-All_." Warming to her theme, Kendall continued heatedly, "Greenlee and Ryan think I'm not fit to raise my own niece. J.R. thinks that makes me ripe for the picking. Fuck them all! They're about to have a rude awakening, and I mean that literally."

Some things you couldn't stop and think about before you did them. When they were purely gut-driven, then philosophical analysis was their natural born enemy. Kendall instinctively knew that if she stopped to think about what her inner Kane was motivating her—not in so many words, but in a higher power communication she understood on a visceral level—to do, the moment and the chance would be lost. All false pride must be shelved—dull, uninspired logic—and every last shred of dignity. All were luxuries she could no longer afford.

Reaching for the phone, Kendall punched in Myrtle's number. The instant the other woman answered, Kendall asked breathlessly, "Myrtle, is Zach still there?"

"Why, Kendall!" Myrtle sounded concerned. "Honey, how are you? We were worried about you, the way you tore out of here!"

Kendall seethed with impatience, though she tried to hide from Myrtle. "I'm fine. Sorry I worried you. I just need to talk to Zach. Is he there?"

"He left right after you did. You know, Kendall, I really think you should give Zach a—"

"Do you know where he was going?"

There was a light pause at the other end of the connection. "Kendall Hart, just what the dickens are you up to?" Myrtle demanded. She didn't sound angry, though. She sounded delighted.

"I promise I'll tell you when I have time, Myrtle. Just tell me where Zach is now if you know, _please_."

"He said he was on his way to his casino, Kendall."

"Okay. Then I am too. I'll call you later, Myrtle—bye!"

Less then an hour later, Kendall stood outside Zach's office door, with little memory of how she had arrived there, so focused on the journey's end had she become. This was no time to have an attack of the vapors. She grasped the knob and pushed her way inside.

Seated behind his handsome desk, engrossed in the spreadsheet displayed on his sleek laptop monitor, Zach finally looked up at Kendall's unannounced intrusion with a typically controlled expression on his face. But she seemed to feel the heat from his piercing, inquiring hazel gaze.

"Can I help you, Kendall?" he questioned.

Kendall exhaled. "Yes, you can, Zach. Will you marry me?"


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty-One**

For a moment Zach was silent. There was no particular change in the expression on his face. Then he gave an odd laugh. "I knew if I was patient my luck would improve."

Kendall was uncertain how to interpret his answer. Moving farther into Zach's large office on legs whose slight shakiness was cured by dropping into the chair opposite his desk, she asked candidly, "Do you think for once you could give me a straight answer?"

"I don't know that I can, Kendall," he said frankly. "I'm not actually sure I heard you correctly."

"Oh, yes, you did, Zach. If you don't believe me, play back the surveillance tape I'm sure just recorded the big moment," she said, matching his frankness.

Zach looked at her so long and hard without responding Kendall began to feel truly uncomfortable. "What is it, Zach? Is Bigfoot standing behind me? Did my skin suddenly turn blue? Have I grown another head?"

He laughed again, a sound that was still hard to interpret. "No. But perhaps something similar. I begin to suspect you've suddenly become possessed."

"Oh, no, this is the real Kendall Hart and I'm not channeling anybody," she assured him. "This is me and I'm completely serious. It may seem impulsive, I know, but—"

Tilting back in his chair and steepling his fingers, Zach regarded her through eyes now hooded. "I can't say I've ever known you to be anything _but_ impulsive."

Kendall wasn't sure how this was going. "Don't psychoanalyze me now, Zach, there isn't time for that. It's very simple really, if you'll just give me a minute to explain."

"All right, we'll cut to the chase. You want a husband. If I'm the best candidate you can come up with, then Miranda's custody must be involved."

"You're a perceptive man," Kendall said. "That's exactly it."

"I'm also a curious man. I want to know what has driven you to the opposite extreme of the way you were at Myrtle's."

"Zach, first you tell me yes, you'll marry me, or no, you won't." Kendall looked at him as steadily as she was able to, attempting to gauge his likely response. "Yes or no, pick one."

The following seconds were some of the longest in Kendall's life. Then Zach said, without a single facial muscle betraying anything of his feelings, "Yes."

Again Kendall exhaled, deeply. "Okay. Good. Now there's no more time to waste. Let's go, Zach. We have to get a marriage license signed, sealed and delivered before noon tomorrow." Rising from her chair to demonstrate the need for haste, Kendall's legs felt shakier than ever.

"Not quite so fast, Kendall," he deterred her. "And that would be because—?" Zach didn't move from his chair, but his face was beginning to loosen up; his eyebrows rose.

A torrent of words rushed from her lips. "Because after I left Myrtle's I went home J.R. was waiting for me. He gave me until noon tomorrow to accept his wedding proposal and if I don't he starts building the scaffold where I'll be publicly awarded a great big red letter 'H' to wear during the custody fight. But Zach, if I'm already married I _can't_ say yes to J.R., plus nobody can criticize me for trying to be a single mother, and if I'm married to _you_, well, it's even better because you're Miranda's uncle just as I'm her aunt, and together that trumps Ryan and Greenlee relationship to her by a mile."

"Letter 'H"?" Zach inquired.

"For 'harlot,'" Kendall snapped. "Didn't you hear the rest of what I said? Come on, Zach, let's go to the airport now and get this over with. The only place I can think of where we can get married and back here in time tomorrow is Las Vegas, but we have to hurry or we won't make it."

Placing his hand down on his desk, Zach leaned forward. "No, sit down, Kendall. We need to talk about this some more."

"Why, Zach? You already said 'yes'—let's not quibble about the details!"

"This won't take long if you'll please be seated." After Kendall reluctantly complied, Zach continued, "So Junior gave you a deadline. But he's already been busy poisoning the well for you. What more can he do if you don't meet his deadline?"

"He'll testify against me in court. He'll testify about the times he's seen you and me together and he'll put a scandalous spin on it. We know nothing happened but he'll still talk it up like we've been having a cheap affair."

"Ah, I see the significance of the 'H,' now," Zach said softly.

Quickly, Kendall replied, "Exactly, and that's another reason I need you to marry me, Zach. If we're married then nothing J.R. can say about me will sound so bad."

"I've already said 'yes,' Kendall," he reminded her. "Now I'm asking you to listen to me. Junior can't make good on his threat until a hearing is actually held. Even with his influence I doubt a hearing could be scheduled by tomorrow afternoon. We can find out with a quick phone call to Livia—she just happens to be my lawyer too."

While Kendall waited impatiently, Zach spoke with Livia, who fortunately was able to take his call right away. Judging from Zach's relaxed side of the conversation, Kendall's hope that J.R. had issued a somewhat empty threat to her began to grow. Zach confirmed it once he hung up the phone.

"This is what Livia told me, Kendall," Zach began. "Greenlee and Ryan still have not even been issued the _temporary_—note the emphasis—custody order they requested. The process is grinding on that and there's no reason your name should come up during it."

"Okay, but what about the request Livia was filing for me, Zach?"

"Livia will now delay filing until tomorrow. Even if she filed this instant, however—the wheels of so-called justice don't turn fast enough for Junior to start pulling you under for at least several more days. Even little Chandler doesn't reign _that _supreme." Zach's mouth twisted into a little grin. "We have more breathing room than he realizes."

Kendall felt as if she'd just stumbled into a rest stop where she least expected to find one during a marathon run, and been handed an energizing, nutritious drink. Although there was little time to savor the refreshment before resuming the race, its effects would continue to act, and she felt far less depleted already than she had before entering Zach's office. "Thank you, Zach," she breathed fervently. "_Thank you_."

"My pleasure," he said briefly. "Well—let's get married, then."

"Then shouldn't we still head for Las Vegas soon?" Yet Kendall couldn't suppress a smidgen of distaste at the prospect of being married in such an artificial town—even though, ironically, her marriage to Zach was going to be largely artificial, at least under the surface.

She saw Zach regard her closely. "You know what, Kendall, I was just in Vegas and I'm not keen on another cross-country trip. Let me ask Edie to look into something." He made another quick call, listening while his assistant apparently did some online research, jotting notes before ending the call and returning his attention to Kendall.

"I've just learned there's a state in this time zone with no waiting, residency, or blood test requirements," he told her. "Driving there may even be faster than flying since we won't have to deal with airport security or rent a car. So what do you say we go home, pack some things, and hit the road?"

"You're making this so much easier than I would have thought. That is, if I'd let myself stop and think about it first," Kendall admitted.

"Kendall the impulsive."

"Kendall the scared shitless. In all honesty I don't know what to make of it."

Zach shrugged. "I won't psychoanalyze you if you won't psychoanalyze me."

"It's a little scary, though, isn't it, to think of you and me ending up married?" she persisted.

"'Scary' is not the word I'd use, Kendall. In this case I'd use…oh, 'expedient.'"

It was certainly a colder, more practical word, a word that spoke less of sensation and more of getting down to business, which was what she needed to do. Kendall swallowed. "You're right, Zach. So if we're not going to Vegas, where exactly are we going?"

"Virginia. Alexandria, Virginia to be exact, just outside Washington, DC. Very historic city, I understand. We should arrive in time to do a little sight-seeing. We can be married first thing in the morning and home _almost_ in time to meet Junior's little deadline." The twisted grin again.

For a moment Kendall wondered if she were dreaming this—and what a strange dream it was. Not only had she just proposed lawful marriage to the same dangerous man she'd been quite recently convinced bore full responsibility for her family's disappearance, a man who returned in full and very blunt measure her unflattering opinion—he had accepted her proposal. Not only accepted it but was entering into the arrangement readily, or so it seemed to her. True, they shared the same goal, but still…it was disconcerting. No, it was _scary_, no matter what Zach called it.

"A historic city for an historic…wedding," Kendall tried to joke, but it seemed to fall flat.

Barely an hour ago she was feeling entirely alone, sunk in the deepest pit of despair. Her own Kane genes had taken her in hand and boosted her from the lowest depths but she'd still teetered on the edge. How odd that it was for Zach of all people to be the one hauling her closer to safety. Maybe not so odd after all, though, when tallied against his other recent, uncharacteristically positive actions…especially when Kendall found that on balance, and in light of what they were setting out to do, all those things still added up to _dangerous_…there being subtle variations in the definition of the word.

"'Historic'…now there's another word I might use," Zach agreed imperturbably. "Why don't we do this, Kendall. I have a detail or two here to clear up. You'll want more time to pack than I need. I'll give you a head start and I'll meet you at home in about an hour and a half."

"Then we'll be on the way?"

"That would be the plan."

"So by this time tomorrow we'll be married and I can tell J.R. to go screw himself?"

"You can tell him anything you like, Kendall. Personally I'd be less refined about it."

Kendall couldn't help it. She laughed, and the rare sound of her laughter shimmered in the air between them, effortlessly turning up the corners of Zach's mouth as well into a genuine smile.

The moment, so fraught with this dangerous harmony between them, made Kendall recall, for the first time since determinedly banishing it from her mind, the night she'd spent in Zach's bed and her sensual response to his proximity. Determinedly, she tried to banish the memory again. She wasn't marrying him for _that_.

_Maybe not_, her inner self teased, _but you wouldn't turn him down either. Oh god, no._

After Kendall left, Zach allowed himself no second thoughts. This was what was known as an act of the gods, something that if it was refused would offend the higher powers into meting out such consequences that you were made mightily sorry you didn't take them up on it in the first place. He had never been married before nor even been in a position to entertain serious thoughts of marriage, and now it seemed he was about to be propelled into the so-called holy state of matrimony with a woman he wasn't sure he even liked, yet didn't seem able to stay away from, any more than she seemed able to stay away from him.

So, Zach found it necessary to remind himself, this wasn't to be a true marriage in the accepted sense; this was merely a marriage of convenience, a union pragmatically entered into on both sides strictly for Miranda's sake. He hoped with all his heart that the ruse worked. But either way…for better or worse, he would have him a wife.

Following Kendall's wise example to not stop and think about it, Zach stopped by Edie's office to ask her to gather a little more information for him and let her he know was going out of town again, just for the night. On his way from the casino to his Range Rover, he detoured through the arcade of exclusive specialty shops catering to high rollers in the front lobby. With his usual attention to detail, Zach realized that if he and Kendall were really going to pull off this performance successfully, they needed to start with the right props.

This was only the second time he'd been inside the Cartier boutique. The first time had been for its grand opening and ribbon-cutting ceremony. After that, Zach was more than happy to leave the legendary jewelers alone to generate more income for the casino; he was partial to Rolex watches himself. Now as he stepped across the threshold and the elegant blond manager, whose name he'd long since forgotten, came forward to greet him, Zach felt as if he may as well go for broke—although price was no object with him. Decisively making his selection, he soon left with a gold scroll-trimmed, red leather ring box containing a prop worth easily a year's salary to one of his well-paid managers, oblivious to the very, very happy—and smitten—boutique manager gazing longingly after him.

On the drive to his and Kendall's condo complex, the little box burned like a coal in his pocket. Resolutely, Zach still did not allow himself to think about what he was doing. This was an act of the gods, he told himself again, or perhaps of the goddesses. The skilled master manipulator had no say in this matter at all.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

"Kendall, wake up. We're here."

Coming to with a lurch, Kendall snapped to attention. Halfway into the trip, somewhere around the Baltimore Beltway she had stopped fighting her fatigue and finally dozed off. Road trips on interstates were by their very nature boring anyway, and Zach was playing a classical music CD that was lulling. Between the two, Kendall didn't stand a chance, especially since the closer they got to Baltimore the heavier traffic became and Zach concentrated on driving. She vaguely remembered him announcing when they'd crossed the Potomac River into Virginia, and then she'd fallen right back asleep.

Now they were actually in Alexandria, and the door on her side of the SUV was being opened by a valet, who then stood back waiting for her to let him assist her. Behind the valet, Kendall saw a red brick Federal-style building with black shutters at the windows and a graceful fan-lighted front door, with curved staircases leading up to an white columned portico, like something out of the early 1800's. She began to step from the Range Rover, but before the valet could take her arm Zach was there instead, acting the part of her devoted fiancé, helping her down.

Kendall didn't have to act as she held onto him and tried to get her bearings. She was truly impressed with the look of the lovely inn Zach had chosen on such short noticed, grateful she wasn't required to lift a finger as Zach and the doorman saw to their bags, pleased to be shown so quickly to her room, adjoining Zach's room, where check-in was accomplished with a minimum of fuss. Both rooms were beautifully and comfortably furnished in antique reproductions, reinforcing the impression that one had stepped back in time.

In contrast, Kendall felt hurtled forward…hurtled forward to a strange new world she wasn't ready to live in yet, a world from which Bianca and Erica had been erased, a world where friends suddenly became enemies, where enemies suddenly became…friends. Or even husband and wife. God, this was awkward. What ever made her think this was a feasible plan—marrying Zach Slater? Even for Miranda's sake, it wasn't just impulsive, it was _crazy_, the kind of thing you came up with in the middle of the night when you couldn't sleep, when anything seemed possible to your sleep-deprived mind, not in the harsh light of day, Kane woman or no Kane woman.

It didn't help that Zach seemed to be reading her mind. He looked up from fiddling with the fireplace and asked, "Having second thoughts?"

"No," Kendall said stoutly. "But after sleeping in the car half the way, I must look a fright, so you probably are."

"Not at all. This is one of the top hotels in the country. Four-star, I believe."

"I wasn't talking about the ho—" Then she caught the wry expression on his face and decided to do what she normally did, which was say what she was thinking. "There's no point in pretending this isn't pretty awkward, is there, Zach? We both know it is."

"Oh, I've been in far more awkward situations than this," he replied nonchalantly.

"Really? Such as?" she challenged.

"Is it necessary to enumerate them? You were present at some of the more recent ones. Such as Murder Mystery Night at the Seasons East. Or when I announced to half of Pine Valley that my real name was Alexander Cambias, Jr. Or when I—"

"Ha! You think that's bad? Try being on trial for murder and having a pregnancy pillow strapped on under your dress to make the jury believe you're a grieving widow, and your so-called best friend storms the witness stand and rips your dress open."

"I read about it," Zach said quietly.

_It was his brother you were on trial for murdering, idiot!_ "Oh my god, me and my big mouth strike again with another unbeatable conversation ender." Kendall said ruefully, making a pretense of smoothing her hair. "I guess I'd better go to my room and freshen up while I still have a room."

But she didn't leave, and Zach said, "You know what, Kendall, you've never spared my feelings, do don't start now. I wouldn't recognize you if you started now."

Kendall's mind traveled back to that awful night, not so long in the past, when she'd waylaid Zach by his door and accused him of wiping out her family and his own son. Events had moved so rapidly since then, with the catalyst of Miranda changing everything. She'd not only been forced to admit she was wrong about Zach's culpability there, she'd uncovered evidence of Ethan's betrayal. Never once had Zach told her to go fuck herself, as she deserved…instead he was doing everything he could to help her. Go figure.

The words needed to be said. "When you put it like that—I'm not sure I get why you're doing this, Zach. I mean, I get that you loved Bianca, but you never bargained for being stuck with me in what amounts to a restructuring of your whole _life_."

"It's a gamble," Zach said simply. "I like to gamble. And when I gamble, I like to win—so if I'm going to play, I _play_ to win."

"So this is just play for you?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"Mr. Mysterious strikes again, but whatever you mean me to think, you're still being so—so generous. It's like I don't even recognize you, and that's partly what I meant by things being awkward. We're in this really weird situation, we both know it's weird, but I'm the only one admitting it. I mean, for instance, when was the last time you took a woman to a hotel and took separate _rooms_, Zach?" Again, Kendall was aghast by the unruly words leaving her mouth of their own volition.

His head cocked to the side and his eyes, surprisingly, twinkled. "I didn't say this wasn't a novel situation, Kendall. The answer to your question is 'never.' But I've never had to prove my fiancée was a respectable woman before, either."

"Oh, please, _novel_?—try _impossible_. 'Respectable' and 'Kendall' are mutually exclusive terms." Kendall was as honest as she could be. "Even you can't turn back the clock, but—thanks for helping me try to move forward, Zach. I appreciate it more than you could possibly know."

Move forward? No, the motion was still called _hurtling_, and the hurtling sensation was becoming stronger all the time.

As if determined to refute her description of him as generous, Zach replied, "As you said, Kendall, I loved Bianca. I love Miranda; she's my niece too. Tell me, what do you think my chances of seeing her are once the Laverys have her under lock and key? This charade is for my benefit as much as yours."

"Fair enough, Zach. So is that why this—_charade_—was my idea, but you're the one handing out the pep talks?"

Continuing to regard Kendall steadily, he said, "You said you had no second thoughts about going through with this charade, Kendall. I thought I was hearing third ones—and fourth ones."

"All brides get the jitters. Even when it's a fake bride and a fake wedding." Kendall tried to sound sanguine.

"So that's all it is, Kendall—fake bridal jitters?"

"What's with this third degree, Zach?" she asked a bit defensively. "I'm trying to be honest with you about how I feel. But all I keep hearing from you is what you _wouldn't_ say, not what you _would_ say." _Why am I pushing this?_ Kendall asked herself. _I think he's actually on my side._ _The last thing I need to do now is piss him off now._

But Zach didn't seem to take offense. "Don't you think I'm honest with you, Kendall?"

"It's not a matter of honesty, Zach. It's your making me feel I can only get to a certain place before I hit a wall. Sometimes it's a very"—she indicated the room—"poshly upholstered wall and sometimes it's just a plain brick one, but the results of hitting them are exactly the same."

"And you thought I was perceptive." His mouth twisted. "Think about it, Kendall. Don't you think a wall serves a dual purpose? Not only as protection from others, but as protection _for_ others?" As he spoke, Zach's voice grew deeper.

Kendall found herself shivering at this glimpse of the lonely man behind the wall she'd spoken of. "I really wouldn't know, Zach. It's probably a good skill to have, but I don't even have a clue how to put up a wall. And whenever I run into someone else's, I guess I just keep trying until I either get through it, over it, or around it somehow."

"And do you never regret that, Kendall?"

"Regret what—not putting up a wall, or being black-and-blue all the time?"

"The black-and-blue."

"Well…," Kendall hesitated. "Sometimes, I guess, but you of all people know my head is pretty hard, and I'd rather be sorry I did something than sorry I didn't do it."

"Does that include marrying me? Even though it's a sham?"

"Maybe I'm the one who should be asking if you're having second thoughts, Zach," Kendall said softly. "I did ask _you_ to marry _me_, not the other way around."

"I said 'yes'—and I meant 'yes.' If we are going to get married," said Zach, speaking suddenly in a casual, matter-of-fact tone, "some things must be understood, one of them being that I don't go back on my word."

"Okay, I get that too. And I'm glad because," Kendall's voice was the one that lowered now, "if you didn't say 'yes' and mean it, I wouldn't have a prayer of getting Miranda, and I don't think I could handle that. It's only because of you I'm not locked up behind some _monster_ brick walls even bigger and stronger than yours, with a great big Oakhaven Sanitarium sign plastered over them."

"Don't sell yourself short, Kendall. You're rather the irresistible force."

"Well, in that case it's a damn good thing you weren't the immovable object for once. If you were…." Kendall shuddered delicately. "I really wouldn't have a chance."

"In the end it doesn't matter how differently we operate, or how we feel about this marriage or each other. We work together on this, Kendall, because we have the same goal. Focus on that, forget everything else, and you—we—will succeed in getting it."

Climbing to her feet from the end of the four-poster bed on which she'd been lounging and going toward the open connecting door between their rooms, Kendall tried to appear reassured. "Damn right we will, Zach," she said coolly. "Now I'm going to my room and dress for dinner. I've just decided you're taking me out to eat. Your black-and-blue fiancée may not be respectable, but she is starving."

"Kendall, wait. Before we go out—"

She turned back questioningly.

"One more thing before you dress—"

As Kendall watched in surprise, Zach fumbled for something in his trouser pocket.

After all his lofty enigmatic talk, it was the last thing she would have expected from him but then, Zach was a male animal—a very male one, and in her experience male animals were all more alike than different. It was the eve of their wedding and, fake or not, she'd not even thought to issue any conditions relative to its consummation. So when Zach's fingers emerged wrapped around a small red leather box, rather than the more familiar object she'd assumed they would be holding, Kendall blurted, "Oh, my god, Zach, what on earth is that? I've never seen one like—it doesn't look like a—I mean, it's not what I thought you were going for—I mean, never mind."

Zach looked at her in bemusement, then at the box in his hand, then back at her again. "Does that translate into English, Kendall?"

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she said, "It did. But you don't need to know how."

"If we're to present a united front, I need to learn Kendallspeak."

"Ha, like you'd ever teach me Zachspeak? But okay, I guess I'm even more rattled than I thought," she swallowed. "And even less respectable, because I swear to god, Zach, I thought you were pulling a condom out of your pocket."

To her enormous relief Zach not only laughed, his laugh was completely unfettered. "First things first, Kendall, don't you think? This is a different sort of ring. Now please come here and give me your hand. The left one."

As she saw the box he held more close-up, Kendall recognized its origin, even though she'd never owned a piece of jewelry of such quality or expense. "Is that for _real_?" she gasped.

"What do you think?" Zach asked levelly.

"Look, I'm not _insulting_ you. I just never expected—" _Anything like this from you_, she finished the rather tactless statement in her mind, staring at him while temporarily speechless.

"Neither did I, Kendall. But here we are. Now hold out your hand."

"But I—you don't have to—" While Kendall weakly protested, torn between a sudden, surprising eagerness to possess a ring from Zach, and then confusion at her reaction, Zach was firmly raising her left hand from her side and smoothly slipping the bedazzling ring over its third finger. Her gaze followed his to her hand.

The ring was in the style of an eternity band, with numerous—she was too overwhelmed to count them—round, sparkling white diamonds each individually set in platinum, encircling her finger. Any one of the stones would have made a fine solitaire, but in this setting they were only lesser gems, flanking and dominated by what could only be called an eye-popping—well over two carats, Kendall was sure—central round gem, its icy facets reflecting the room's light like a tiny, brilliant white star.

"What a beauty," Kendall breathed. "It's _gorgeous_, Zach. I _love _it. And _Cartier_! This is supposed to be _my_ party—but you're doing all the work. This is one hell of a party favor. How did you manage it so fast?"

Although he shrugged negligently, Zach seemed pleased. "Don't tell me you've never noticed the Cartier shop in my casino lobby."

"Of course I have. But first this beautiful inn, and now this…." She flexed her hand, admiring the effect of the flashing gems. "Zach, who knew you had such excellent taste?"

"I'm full of surprises," he agreed dryly.

"You've surprised me. But oh, I do so love my ring. And I'm telling you now, Zach, it's never coming off my finger. So don't think you're ever getting it back," she added warningly.

Watching her face, Zach asked, "Why would I want your bauble back? I've no one else to give it to—and I think we can both agree it's not my style."

"Oh, what was that, Zach? Did the great stone face Zach Slater just crack a little joke at his own expense, or am I hearing things?" Kendall heard her own self tease him.

But, almost businesslike, Zach went on, "Besides, the manager at the Cartier boutique would have a stroke if I returned it. The ring is yours to keep, Kendall."

"Well, then, I don't really know what else to say, except—well, thank you." Merely voicing her appreciation of so magnificent a gift seemed woefully adequate. Impetuously, Kendall lifted her face to give Zach a light kiss of gratitude on the cheek just as he was moving nearer. The cold fire emitted by the hard diamonds on her hand was no match for the supple warmth of his skin when he turned his face toward hers—deliberately?—or perhaps accidentally, the result was the same: She found her lips against his, rather than against the much rougher skin of his cheek.

Her surroundings, the ring, even the reason for them all, were forgotten by Kendall in the physical exhilaration that invaded her at that moment of intimate contact. Without thinking she let her arms wind around Zach's neck, only to realize that his arms were already enfolding her into an almost crushing embrace, his lips seeking more from hers. "_Mmm_." Kendall melted against him with a throaty sigh.

With their bodies and their mouths pressing together so tightly, Kendall—not loath to experience what it might lead to—was obliged to part her lips for more air. When Zach emulated her, the now open-mouthed kiss progressed quickly, almost helplessly, from tentative to daring. Like the eruption of a flash fire in the wild, it was as if their all-too-primed senses, first numbed by sorrow, then unnaturally banked beneath layers of caution and decorum native to neither of them, spontaneously ignited in this heady exchange of oxygen and caresses. Zach traced his hand upward along Kendall's spine to the base of her skull, lightly clasping it in place while his mouth worked its magic on hers.

Eventually, though, they were required to catch their breaths, in more ways than that one. Slowly releasing Zach's lips from hers, Kendall waited for her racing pulse to slow down. But things weren't going to be that simple. He was still holding her, looking as dazed as she felt. It dazed her even more, aroused her even more, to know that she'd had the same effect on Zach that he'd had on her.

_I want you_, she thought in some wonder. _Maybe it's crazy, but I do_.

"Where do we go from here, Kendall?" Zach whispered hoarsely, brushing a loose tendril of her hair back from her flushed face. "It's your party. Tell me what you want."

Kendall swallowed. Could Zach read her mind? Or was he, once again, giving her a choice? But…things really _were_ going to be simple after all. Because she didn't _have_ a choice. They had come this far already. It was too late to turn back now. "If you don't finish making love to me this time, Zach, I'm going to explode," she admitted bluntly. "Don't make me beg."

In wordless response, Zach pulled her back to him. His passionate, powerful kisses left Kendall nearly panting with desire…and with absolutely no doubts at all of his ability to make her beg for nothing except mercy.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

In unspoken agreement, individually and as part of teamwork, they clumsily freed themselves of their clothes, leaving a trail across the room back to the bed, whose covers Zach swept back with such haste the sumptuous linens billowed into the air before meeting the floor. This was recklessness, this was lunacy, this was asking not for a mere world of trouble but for an entire universe of it…and that possibility deterred Zach not at all. This wasn't meant to be anything more than it was: A momentary release of too many pent-up feelings, a temporary soothing of too much inner hurt, a few fleeting moments of fulfillment stolen from a dull and empty eternity.

Kendall was beneath him, urging him on, and who was he to say no after already saying yes? Her kisses were too persuasive and her touch too irresistible for a saint to ignore and Zach was no saint, nor ever claimed nor wanted to be. In indulging his senses to the fullest, it was his pleasure to give her exactly what he knew she wanted and more, and in return she gave him…that too, but something more, something unexpected he hadn't known for a long, long time, for such a long time he felt at a loss what to do about it…not physical release but an emotional connection that rocked him more than his climax.

As they clung together in the aftermath and he gazed down into her lovely face relaxing from the throes of their spent passion, into eyes whose blueness suddenly seemed infinite, he found himself sinking willingly into their depths. Then Kendall met his gaze with a matching intensity, seeming to seek something else from him, something only to be found in those windows to his own soul. Windows Zach was accustomed to keeping shuttered, the soul he tried to hide. This had been good on its own terms; couldn't that be enough?

Whatever else it was Kendall was looking for from him, either by design or by accident, he was wary of her finding and not wanting after all. That shouldn't be a complicating factor in this straightforward, truly enjoyable encounter. He didn't want it to be a factor. Nevertheless there it was.

Closing his eyes, Zach meant to bury his face in her neck, but the stubborn, demanding woman wouldn't let him. "No, Zach, don't zone out. Look at me," she murmured.

"Give me a break. You're insatiable," he grumbled lightly, trying to put her off.

Unsympathetic laughter bubbled up in her; he could feel it. "Too bad, big fella. You're not going to zone out on me now."

"What more do you want, woman?" Zach heard himself ask, and Kendall took the question as a challenge, showing him rather than telling him, pressing her lips to his and initiating another kiss. This kiss was slow and languid, making it somehow even more personal than their uninhibited lovemaking. He assumed it was the finale rather than another prelude, but he turned out to be wrong. Kendall had other ideas. When at last he fell back on the bed, eyeing nothing but a blank white ceiling instead of two knowing blue orbs, he felt drained and enervated but quite pleasurably so.

Kendall was lying quietly beside him, wriggling. "_Brrr_. Zach, I'm kind of chilly. All the blood must have flowed right out of my arms and legs to…well, you know," she managed to purr before adding with a shiver, "Can you reach the sheets and blanket?"

Grabbing the covers from the floor where they'd been so unceremoniously dumped, Zach pulled them up. "Here you go," he said, arranging them mostly over a huddling Kendall and leaving just enough to cover himself.

"Thanks." She executed a long, cat-like stretch beneath the covers.

When Zach slid beneath his share of them on the king-sized bed, a gap remained between him and Kendall of about eight inches. It didn't remain empty for long. She commenced wriggling once more, inching toward him while complaining about being cold in spite of the blanket.

"_Brrr_," she repeated. "Aren't we going to…you know?"

"Jesus. Let a man catch his breath, Kendall," Zach growled good-naturedly.

"I didn't mean that again, at least not right now. I meant, aren't we going to snuggle now?"

"Snuggle?" he nearly choked. So she was angling for less blatantly erotic attention, too. The type of attention he was so deeply conflicted about how to show or give. But it was rather a moot point when after all, hadn't it been _he_, not so very long ago, declaring to Kendall that she couldn't take no for an answer? He had long since become a living testimonial to that reality.

Without further comment, Zach turned on his left side, nudged Kendall over onto her left side, and drew her back against him so that his torso curved around her spine and his right arm curved about her waist. With her back to his front, her unselfconsciously stated need for warmth and contact, and his unstated, uninvited need for them too—plus some form of distance—were both satisfied. This way…she couldn't see into his eyes.

Feeling so surprisingly comfortable he was actually beginning to doze, Zach was roused before drifting off by Kendall shaking in his arms. The repressed, internal nature of her motion didn't indicate she was still shivering, or that she was laughing. She wouldn't have kept those actions to herself, in any event. That left only one thing more Zach could think of: She was crying. _Fuck. So much for the peaceful afterglow. _He gave up debating whether to acknowledge something she seemed to be hiding as useless; she would eventually make it impossible to ignore.

"Kendall? Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

She twisted herself around in his arms so that she was facing him…so much for his well thought-out bodily arrangements, too.

"How _could_ we, Zach?" she burst out.

"How could we what?" he repeated, taken aback.

"How could we have done _this_? Well, maybe not _you_ so much, but how could I do it? How could I _forget _about everything so much?" she wailed. "How could I have just had amazing sex with you like everything was _normal_, like it was all completely fine, like I'm just off on a little jaunt enjoying myself with some nookie on the side, when—when—nothing is fine—and—and even have the nerve to c–complain about being too _cold_! Too cold, when—Bianca—and Erica—they—"

"Kendall…_shhh_…don't do this. Please," was all he could say.

"I can't help it, Zach. All of a sudden I feel so selfish and guilty!"

"_Don't_. No second thoughts, remember? You needed this." The irony of Zach advising anyone else to not feel selfish and guilty was not lost on him.

"I wanted it. But that's no excuse," she insisted. "That makes it worse."

"Listen to me, Kendall. You _needed_ it—and if you want to know, _I_ needed it too," he admitted in a low voice.

Doubtfully, she asked, "Did you really?"

"Yes." To screen the bald admission, Zach added quickly, "You can't help your mother and sister by regretting it now." Realizing how callous that sounded, he went on, "You're doing all that you can do for them. Isn't that why we're here?"

Kendall continued disjointedly. "I know, I know, but…the way you made me _feel_, Zach. God, I've been feeling so cold and dead inside and I hated feeling that way, and you—_you!_—," she emphasized, almost in incredulity, "made me feel the way I wanted to feel, so free and alive all over and inside and out, more alive than I've ever felt before in my whole life, and I—I guess it got to me because it just doesn't seem _fair_. Everything is so different now and I just can't…I can't reconcile it…."

"Come here." Zach found himself reaching out to her without any encouragement, drawing her against him, wrapping his arms around her shaking body and stroking her back and shoulders until she calmed. "Then tell me something, Kendall," he asked of the air above her head, "are you sorry you did this, or sorry you did it with me? Or both?"

Without hesitation, she pulled away far enough to look him in the eye after all, and shook her head. "I don't know why, but I don't think I would have done or even wanted to do it with anyone else," she confessed.

For a moment Zach was silent. Then he lifted her left hand out from under the covers, holding it palm facing down. "It wasn't me. It was the ring," he tried to smile.

"You are such an ass sometimes!" she cried unexpectedly. "I wish I could say it was the ring, but since you're the one who give it to me, it wasn't the ring, it _was _you."

"All right, then, I'm the ass, no, make that the selfish swine who used reverse psychology to lure you into bed. Go ahead. Blame me for everything. That's what I'm used to."

"Oh, but Zach, I know I deserved that, but I can't blame—," Kendall began to protest, before it seemed to dawn on her that he was only partially serious. "Oh. It is nice of you to try to make me feel better."

"Nice?" Zach couldn't help but laugh, and not in amusement. "Do you think I don't understand? For god's sake, my own son…." The instant he said it he wished he could bite off his tongue, and looked away from her.

Removing her left hand from his grasp, Kendall used it to seize his chin, firmly repositioning his face back to where it was. "No, don't zone out on me now. Zach, I thought of Ethan, too," she said, bravely speaking the name. "I mean, how could I help but think of him? But do you want to know what I thought?"

Her eyes were like blue lasers. "I don't know. Do I?" he asked.

"I'm sure you don't, but you will anyway. When you and I were making love, I didn't think of Ethan for a single solitary second. But when it was over and I was feeling so good, I started thinking, 'I wish that bastard could see me now,' and I didn't feel bad about him at all. Are you shocked, Zach?"

"I don't know that you could shock me, Kendall," Zach hedged, although he knew that wasn't true. "Or whether 'shocked' would be the word for it." So what would be—grateful? Relieved? Ten times guiltier than he already felt about Ethan? Some things would never change, though. "For your sake, then, I'm not sorry."

"Good, because Ethan's the past and you're the future, Zach, as strange as that may sound to both of us. And I guess, well…" Her voice trailed off momentarily. "As long as things already suck as much as they do anyway, we need to make the best of them, don't we?"

"I've been telling you that," he pointed out. "You won't stop feeling the way you feel about your mother and sister overnight."

Just as pointedly, Kendall replied, "Like you won't stop feeling the way you feel about Ethan. Whatever that is."

"Touché. Telling me to take my own advice?"

"I'm just trying to understand you, too, Zach. You know, you could teach the Sphinx a thing or two. But—okay, one thing I'm not sorry about is how we ended up being quite so—compatible this way. I mean really, who knew?"

"Quite a bonus," Zach concurred. "You said you were starving. I assumed you were referring to food."

"Jerk." But the tears were gone, and Kendall conveyed some partiality along with the slight. "Now you mention it, though, after all this exercise I still have a really big appetite—for dinner, I mean. And after that, who knows?—depending on how hungry I still am you might even be able to interest me in some dessert."

Zach's low-pitched chuckle indicated he was also hungry now and he might be hungry later too. He read the time on the digital clock behind her on the nightstand. "It's not seven o'clock yet, Kendall. Do you still want to dress and go out?"

"Hmm. I'd rather call down for something. I'm afraid I don't have the stamina to move beyond this room right now. But I'll throw something on for room service. In fact I think I'll take a shower."

Voicing no objections, Zach climbed from the bed, donned one of the two thick terrycloth guest robes hanging in the armoire, and began searching for the room service menu. Jointly, they decided on a simple meal of grilled chicken Caesar salads, a cheese and fruit plate with fresh-baked baguettes and butter to share, and goblets of whipped cream and strawberries for dessert. To the food order, Zach added a bottle of the hotel's most expensive champagne.

Waiting for the delivery of their food, both he and Kendall took quick showers to refresh themselves following the long eventful day, the long road trip, and the unexpected and unexpectedly long session in bed. In tacit acknowledgement of their individual need for more cooling off than a joint shower might provide in light of the latter, she used the bathroom in their current room and Zach used the one in the adjoining room.

When he returned, clad in the black linen slacks and gray shirt he'd worn with her once before, Kendall had slipped into one of her flowing Grecian goddess-type dresses. She stood before the full-length mirror, tying back her damp brown ringlets from her face with a blue ribbon matching her eyes and her dress. She looked fresh and lovely…and as her slender hands tied the ribbon into a bow, he could see the ring on her finger winking brightly at him. How could putting their clothes back on seem just as intimate as taking them off?

For that matter, Zach found himself wondering again how he and Kendall had progressed so rapidly from the other's sworn antagonist to the other's lover, with this newfound but natural ease and relative openness, the friction between them transformed from something irritating to something eminently enjoyable. Yes, he and Kendall were physically compatible. He couldn't deny the pleasure she'd given him and he knew it was mutual, yet their rapport seemed to transcend the mere physical. Was it wise to let his emotional guard down so soon? Sexual compatibility was an added stimulus to their liaison…and he found her stimulating in other ways, but what if it was more than that, more than the sum total of its parts? Because even after his cool, solitary shower, his passions under control and his mind planning ahead to their calculated return to Pine Valley as husband and wife, Zach knew something fundamental had changed. Not just between him and Kendall, something deep within _him_, something so deep that wisdom had no say in it at all.

_Where do we go from here_, he'd asked Kendall before they'd made love. _Where do we go indeed_, he asked himself now. Or was the question really, _Where is _she_ going from here?_ Just so he'd have some idea where _he_ might end up as well now their fortunes were tied together for the sake of Miranda. Not, Zach supposed, that it really made much of a difference. He could make love to Kendall anywhere. She could needle him anywhere… fill his emptiness anywhere…_I'll put Miranda in her arms. That's the goal. Isn't it?_

Kendall turned around, catching him in the act of staring at her. Zach cleared his throat and unsuccessfully tried to steer his thoughts toward a more pragmatic direction. He was rescued by the arrival at the door of three room service waiters, rolling in and setting up the elegantly appointed table holding their meal, along with a silver ice bucket containing the champagne he'd ordered.

Tipping the servers generously, Zach waited for them to leave before saying to Kendall, "I haven't checked my voice mail since we got here. I'll do that before we start eating."

She blinked as if returning to her own reality. "Oh, good idea! I haven't checked mine either. I'd better make sure nothing else has happened since I've been gone."

But something had already happened.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

Kendall fished her cell phone from her purse, while Zach got his from his suit jacket. On opposite sides of the bed they perched, listening to their various messages. Almost simultaneously, each sucked in his or her breath and tensed, as similar expressions of undisguised alarm and foreboding crept over each of their faces. Each of them then quickly switched off his or her cell phone, and turned to face the other. Kendall's features still wore an alarmed expression, while Zach had more successfully composed his into a semblance of calm.

"Oh my god, Zach, Myrtle called me about Miranda! She didn't know if Greenlee had gotten hold of me, and—," Kendall began, at the same time as Zach said, "That was Edie. Myrtle is trying to reach one of us. It's about Miranda—"

"Then you know! Miranda's in the hospital! And it's bad," Kendall finished, her voice trembling as it rose. "It's really, really bad."

"No. You know more than I do. Edie didn't have the details. Try to tell me everything Myrtle said."

Kendall took a deep breath. "Myrtle said…she said…they're afraid it's—oh, Zach, they think Miranda has meningitis. They're running all kinds of tests."

Zach swore softly. "Did Myrtle's message say how it happened?"

"Just that—that—Miranda came down with a fever last night and—a really high one and Greenlee couldn't get her temperature down—and this morning she started having seizures—so they rushed her to the ER. Oh, god…_and I didn't know…!_"

Zach went around to Kendall's side of the bed and sat beside her. Somehow his arm ended up around her shoulders again and he administered a bracing little shake. "You couldn't have known if Greenlee didn't tell you," he said tightly. "Which she should have done, but that's another issue. All right, Miranda was admitted to the hospital with symptoms of meningitis. Do we know any more than that?"

Kendall sprang to her feet like a panicky fawn, her face a mask of fear. "That's the worst part, Zach! Miranda's unconscious—and they aren't sure—they aren't even sure she's going to make it," she cried. "Oh god, I can't believe this is happening. Come on, don't just sit there, we need to leave for home right away!"

His hand reached out to clasp her wrist before she could spring completely away. Trying to keep his own voice calm, Zach said, "All right, but first I want to call the hospital and see if anything's changed since Myrtle left that message. Do you remember the time stamp on it?"

"No, but does it make any difference? It doesn't sound like Miranda's going to get better in a few hours!" Kendall's voice bordered on hysteria. "Oh, no—you don't think she's already—?"

His grip on her wrist tightened before he released it, also stood, and replied firmly, "No. I don't think that. I want to make sure Myrtle's information is correct and current." Going to the room phone, he asked the operator to connect him to the patient information desk at Pine Valley Hospital in Pine Valley, Pennsylvania. "I'm on hold, waiting for a nurse," he told Kendall as his call was bounced through the chain of command.

Somehow remembering there was an extension phone in the bathroom, Kendall flew to it just in time to hear a nurse finally come on the line in response to Zach's repeated demand to speak to someone authorized to release information on his niece's condition. Together, they heard official verification that Miranda had been admitted that day—and that her condition was listed as critical. "Thank you. Miranda's aunt, Kendall Hart, and I are out of town," Zach told the nurse before hanging up. "Expect us in three to four hours."

Kendall flew back into the bedroom and began grabbing her previously discarded clothes from the floor, jamming them into the nearest bag. It happened to be Zach's, but she didn't appear to notice. "Hurry up, Zach!" she begged. "We can't take any chances. If Miranda is gone before we get there…get your stuff and come _on_!"

He clutched her wrist once more to get her attention. "All right. We But you realize that if we return to Pine Valley not married to each other the entire _raison d'être_ for this trip goes up in smoke."

"Not married?" she repeated blankly.

"Why we came here," Zach reminded her since, somewhat absurdly—or maybe not so, after all—it seemed necessary.

Kendall's hands fell to her sides. "Oh. That's right," she whispered. "So whether we stay here and get married tomorrow or whether go home now, we're screwed either way. My brilliant ideas always go up in smoke sooner or later, don't they?"

"You couldn't have foreseen this."

Her voice grew more emotional and strident. "Jesus fucking Christ,why can't _anything_ ever go right? My mother, my sister, now my _niece_…even _Ethan_…tell me, Zach, why _is_ this happening—_why_? Did I do something? I must have done something."

"I can't tell you that, Kendall," he said quietly. He heard himself go on, although he didn't know if she was listening, "But one thing I've learned from being a gambler. The harder you try to win against an opponent, the harder he tries to win against you. That's why you put up walls, to keep him guessing." When he saw that she was listening, he continued, "But if he's already gotten to you, if he's determined to win, you stand still, keep your cards to yourself, and wait until he fucks up and shows his hand. Then you strike when he's weak, and you'll win. More often than not, that's what'll happen. But sometimes your opponent already holds all the cards, and Kendall, this is one of those. Fight it if you must, but you won't win. So save your strength for a fight you can win."

"Zach…I've never heard you talk quite like that before."

"It's how I talk to myself," he shrugged. "I'm full of shit, but you know what? I'm a captive audience. So were you."

"No—no, you're not full of shit, at least not about this. Getting hysterical doesn'tdo anybody any good. You're actually right."

Flashing one of his very brief, barely perceptible smiles, Zach replied, "Remember one thing, Kendall. We won't go home married. But we will go home engaged. If that's still your wish."

"I guess it is, for now anyway. Zach…."

He was packing his own few things that required it. "Hmm?"

"I keep hearing airplanes so there must be an airport nearby. I was thinking we could fly home.

"I believe Washington National Airport is a few miles north of where we are. But I thought I told you flying wouldn't be faster than driving."

Kendall sounded a bit tentative. "I didn't mean because it would be faster to fly. I meant because—well, if I'm tired, Zach, then you must be positively exhausted. It was a long drive here and it's another long drive home."

"I can manage, Kendall. We should be home before eleven. I don't plan to stop, so I suggest we have some of this food before we go."

The balance of their small amount of packing was accomplished quickly; just as quickly they wolfed down enough bites of salad, cheese, and fruit, all of which now seemed tasteless, to tide them over. Since one of the waiters had already opened the champagne bottle, the champagne had to go to waste—but this was no longer a celebration of any kind.

Checking out of the hotel then took only minutes, Zach's SUV was brought around to the front of the hotel, and in short order he and Kendall were once more belted in and on the road, heading back toward Pine Valley. Traffic was light, the trip was without incident both inside and outside the vehicle. As Zach predicted, they turned off the road and into the Pine Valley Hospital car park a little before eleven p.m.

Kendall was thinking how the previous twelve hours seemed like a very strange and unsettling dream—her meeting with Livia, J.R.'s threat, her desperate proposal to and flight with Zach…one of the few things that made it all seem real at all was the stunning ring on her finger. Its twinkling multi-faceted radiance became almost hypnotic as she twisted and turned it on her finger, making a pastime of mirroring passing road lights in its reflective multiple gems. The ring was more communicative than Zach—conversation between herself and him was desultory. He seemed to withdraw into himself at the start of the trip, popping another classical music CD into the dashboard and seldom remarking on anything after that, even as they drove up the George Washington Parkway across the Potomac River from Washington, D.C. and its myriad landmarks, lit up and glowing in the darkness.

Watching Zach's hands guide the steering wheel, Kendall spent considerable time as the miles rolled past recalling all too well how unerringly those hands had guided her into the passion she normally craved. Somehow it hadn't come as a surprise that Zach was so adept, not after the brief preview of his skills she'd had up in his Seasons suite, nor had her physical response to him surprised her for the same reason. His ability to reach her on an even deeper level did come as a surprise, though. That also allseemed like a dream to Kendall now and, lord help her, despite everything she caught herself hoping she could have the same dream again. But if Zach shared her curiosity, he wasn't letting on, and she kept her distracting thoughts to herself.

The hospital visitors' car park was almost empty this time of night. Zach eased the Range Rover into a space near the entrance and Kendall stretched her cramped limbs.

"God, I'm such a nervous wreck, Zach! This was one trip I never really wanted to end even though I was so _impatient _for it to end," she commented anxiously as they sped up in the elevator to the pediatric ICU as pointed out by the staff member in the main lobby who'd received Kendall's urgent plea for directions. Zach made no comment. When they reached their destination they found a small enclosed waiting room with some seating, a desk manned by a nurse, and several doors leading from it.

Sprawled on one of the chairs, with arms folded across his chest, legs slackly extended to their full length, and mouth hanging part-way open as he quietly snored, was Ryan Lavery.

"Oh shit," Kendall, muttered under her breath.

But Ryan did not awaken as Kendall rushed over to the nurse. "I'm Kendall Hart. Miranda Montgomery's my niece—is she still critical? Can we see her?"

"Ms. Hart and Mr.—?" the nurse inquired, looking up at Zach.

"Slater," Zach said. "Miranda's aunt and uncle."

"Good. Dr. Martin wanted me to be on the lookout for you both." Checking some notes, the nurse continued, "Miranda's still critical. She's on IV in one of the isolation rooms. Mrs. Lavery is with her and so is Dr. Martin. We only allow one visitor in there at a time, so you'll have to wait for Mrs. Lavery to leave before one of you can go in, but you can speak with Dr. Martin when he comes out."

Opening her mouth to protest, Kendall saw Zach's warning glance and closed it again. This was one of those fights she wouldn't win. Greenlee would have to come out _some_time. Instead Kendall asked, "Dr. Martin is treating Miranda?"

Joe Martin, M.D., was not only a highly experienced and respected physician in his own right, he was the long-time Chief of Staff of Pine Valley Hospital—and one of her family's oldest friends. In fact, Joe Martin had once been Erica's father-in-law during Erica's first marriage to his son Jeff, and Erica's mother Mona Kane had been Joe's devoted secretary for many years before Mona's death. The mere mention of Joe's name was reassuring to the extent that anything could have been reassuring during this nightmare; at any rate, Miranda could not possibly have been in better hands.

The nurse nodded. "Yes, Dr. Martin wouldn't allow anyone else to handle the case. Oh, here he comes now."

Joe Martin came striding wearily through one of the doors, garbed in a gown and a loosened face mask around his neck. When he noticed Kendall and Zach, he went straight over to them. "Kendall," he said without preamble, inclining his head briefly to Zach, "I've just checked in on Miranda again. Why don't we go sit down and I'll fill you in." Joe led them to a small private consultation area separated by partitions from the general waiting area.

As soon as they were seated, Kendall gasped out, "How is she, Joe? Is she going to make it?"

"We're doing our best, Kendall—and Mr. Slater," Joe sighed. "Her condition right now, however, is very serious. She's had a lumbar puncture, and—"

"What's that?" Kendall interrupted fearfully.

"It's what you know as a spinal tap, Kendall," the doctor explained. "It's a procedure where we remove a small amount of fluid from around the brain and spinal cord and examine it for infection of the meninges—membrane covering the brain and spinal cord. That's what meningitis is, an infection of the meninges."

"Is that what Miranda has, Dr. Martin?" Zach asked.

Joe Martin looked from Zach to Kendall. "I'm afraid our lab results confirmed that Miranda does indeed have meningitis."

Unconsciously, Kendall grabbed at Zach's arm before asking. "The nurse said she was—hooked up. Please tell me right now, Joe—is Miranda on life support?"

"Not the way I think you mean, Kendall. Miranda's intubated to provide her with oxygen, because she's getting medications that stop her seizures but also suppress her respiration. We've also got multiple antibiotics going in her via an IV line to fight the infection. It may look and sound alarming, but we sedated Miranda simply for her own protection, to prevent her from accidentally extubating herself."

While Kendall was digesting this medical jargon, Zach spoke up again. "Have you learned what _caused_ the infection?"

Joe's face assumed an even graver expression. "Unfortunately, we have, Mr., Slater, and it's not good news either. According to Miranda's blood workup, all her cell lines—by which I mean white blood cells to fight infection, red blood cells to bring oxygen, and platelets, for clotting—are dangerously low. Miranda caught the infection because she couldn't fight it off."

"So there's an underlying condition."

"Again, unfortunately—yes, Mr. Slater. We' diagnosed Miranda with a very serious condition called aplastic anemia. Potentially life-threatening. I was just in explaining to Greenlee, and I'm very glad you two arrived when you did so I don't waste any more time explaining it to you, the recommended treatment is a bone marrow transplant and time is of the essence. That means we need to start screening donors. As Miranda's nearest blood relatives we'll want to screen both of you, as soon as possi—"

"Joe, what does that mean? Will screening take very long?" Kendall broke in.

"Not at the moment, Kendall. It's a simple blood test to tell us if you're a match. If one of you is, and that would certainly be the best case scenario, then it becomes a bit more complicated for that person."

"And if one of us isn't a match for Miranda, Joe?"

"Then we expand the search. It's crucial to find a match, but that's not all we have to do. In the meantime we must first cure Miranda of the meningitis, so expect her to be on antibiotic treatments for a week. After that we must follow up with chemotherapy for several days, to kill her existing cells, before we can perform the actual transplant."

Kendall moaned. "Oh, Joe. My poor little niece. She has to go through so much and her mommy isn't even here."

Joe's expression became even more somber. "Kendall, I can't tell you how sorry I am. But I promise you we'll do our very best for Bianca's daughter. Miranda's very special to us—to me—you know, and even more so now."

"Then when can you start screening us, Dr. Martin?" Zach asked, but Kendall broke in again, "I want to see Miranda first—can I?"

The doctor rose to his feet. "Yes, of course you may see Miranda first, Kendall, and you too, Mr. Slater, if you like. Both of you come with me to save time, and then I'll send you down to the lab with Greenlee and Ryan for your blood tests."

Before they were allowed to enter Miranda's isolation room, Kendall and Zach were made to wash their hands and put hospital gowns on over their clothes, as well as masks over their faces. Even before she put on the mask, Kendall felt as though she were beginning to suffocate. She could hardly take this all in. Once she stood beside Miranda's cage-like crib, it was even harder to breathe. Kendall couldn't believe that tiny, still, almost foreign form within, with its eyelids taped shut, an IV line taped to its foot, and an oxygen tube in its mouth, struggling for its life in a room full of noisy contraptions, was her happy, playful, outgoing niece Miranda.

Greenlee was in the room too…a wholly different Greenlee than had been present at her and Kendall's last encounter. When she saw Kendall, Greenlee whispered brokenly, "Kendall, I…I'm so sorry. I don't know how this happened. I swear I don't."

_We're in this together again_, Kendall thought, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat.

"No one is blaming you, Greenlee," Zach said in a low voice.

"Why don't you go join Ryan now, Greenlee," Joe suggested rather briskly. "Wake him up and tell him what I just told you about the blood test. After I let Zach and Kendall visit with Miranda for a moment, I'm sending all of you down to the lab. Then you may come back here and take turns staying with Miranda, if you wish. Or, you may go home and get some rest."

"No! I'm not leaving the hospital," Greenlee said fiercely, following a nurse from the room.

Standing behind them, Joe placed a hand on Kendall's left shoulder and Zach's right. Kindly, he said, "As you can see, we're doing all we possibly can for Miranda now. She's as comfortable as we can make her."

Neither of them replied. The only sound came from the oxygen machine with its continual _huff...huff—_pause—_huff...huff_—pause.

Several seconds later, Joe gently squeezed each of their shoulders. "Come on, folks," he said just as gently, "Let's get you down to the lab."

* * *

_Author's Note:_ Many thanks to my medical consultant, Dr. V. M. W., for patiently providing answers to my numerous questions about aplastic anemia and meningitis, and for reviewing this story for accuracy. 


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

The test that ultimately answered the life-or-death question whether substance from your body qualified to become substance in your niece's began with the simple puncture of a hollow needle to your pulsing vein. Like fellow soldiers injured in the same battle, Kendall, Zach, Greenlee, and Ryan each emerged from the lab with a bandaged-over cotton ball in the crooks of their arms. Also like such fellow soldiers, it was necessary for those with personal differences between them to try to put those differences aside. But that was easier said than done.

Greenlee projected a rare aura of guilt, justified or not, tinged with defensiveness, and wouldn't meet Kendall's gaze, while Ryan radiated pure, unadulterated defensiveness, daring Kendall to meet _his_ gaze instead. _He wants to pick a fight me so I'll lay off Greenlee_, Kendall realized. _Why can't either of them get it through their heads I don't _blame_ them for this? Oh, wait, I know. Because if the shoe were on the other foot they'd blame _me_. But shit. I can't even enjoy the irony that Miranda got so sick while she was with them and not me. _

Zach, on the other hand, had raised his drawbridge, lowered his portcullis, and positioned archers at the window slits. Nobody was getting in, and he wasn't letting anybody out. But where Kendall once would have taken his stoical behavior as a sign of coldness and indifference, she now had a far different insight into it. The same dynamic lover who'd then calmed her by imparting his pragmatic yet self-aware philosophy of life apparently chose to save own his strength by turning to stone.

The joint trip to the lab and what became the joint trip back again were therefore accomplished largely in self-conscious—at least on Kendall's, Greenlee's and Ryan's parts—silence. Until shortly after they emerged from the elevator on the pediatric ICU floor, when Greenlee abruptly stopped short and gasped so loudly that everyone's heads automatically snapped in her direction.

"Greenlee!" Ryan exclaimed. "What is it, sweetheart, what's the matter?"

Pointing at the left hand Kendall had been idly trailing along the railing built into the elevator lobby wall, Greenlee stuttered, 'Wha—wha—what's _that _you're waving around on your hand?" Not content to point, Greenlee had to see it for herself. She grabbed Kendall's hand and ogled the ring up close. "This is something new, Kendall, isn't it? Because I've never seen it before and it sure isn't something I'd forget, or that _you'd_ hide in your jewelry box—no, you'd flaunt a rock like this! Or should I say rocks, oh my god, Ryan, look at all these diamonds! This has even more carats than _my_ engagement ring."

Nonplussed, Kendall snatched her hand back. "Gee, Greenlee, I'm so glad you like my ring." Somehow this time and place wasn't quite the setting Kendall had envisioned for sharing the news.

"Come on, Kendall, we both know that isn't just a regular old ring. Will you please explain to me why you're wearing an _engagement_ ring?

"That's a very good question. What are you up to, Kendall?" Ryan asked suspiciously. "Because my instincts tell me you are up to something, and my instincts are never wrong. I think we deserve to know what it is. Where did you get this ring?"

Kendall's frayed nerves snapped the rest of the way. "And if I don't break under interrogation, Ryan, what are you going to do? Have me banned from the hospital?"

Zach suddenly weighed in, breaking his silence and temporarily silencing them all. "We'll all be banned unless we take this somewhere else."

"It's a simple question, Slater," Ryan finally sputtered in a much lower tone of voice.

"Then I'll give you a simple answer, Lavery. Kendall got the ring from me."

Ryan gaped, and Greenlee uttered another gasp, followed by, "_What did you say_?"

All at once Kendall felt much more secure. "It's true, Greenlee. Zach and I are engaged and we're getting married."

"Is this a joke? Since when?" the other girl hissed.

"What kind of stunt are you trying to pull, Slater?" Ryan began, his voice beginning to rise again.

Zach looked toward Kendall. "It's no stunt. Kendall and I are very much together."

"_Since when_?" Greenlee repeated. "I'll grant you I'm not firing on cylinders at the moment but all that's all the more reason I haven't got enough torque to swing into any alternate universe where Kendall would ever marry _you_."

"That was then, Greenlee. This is now." Kendall stepped closer to Zach, leaned against him, and extended her arm around his waist. It was partially for show…yet she instantly realized it was not all for show, either. It was such a _relief_ to have somebody to lean on that she felt almost weak in the knees when he took his cue and casually draped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer into the circle of his protection. Kendall looked up at him lovingly, a look that Zach returned.

The act must have been convincing, for Greenlee appeared truly stunned. Ryan, however, showed more skepticism, going from staring to glaring. "No doubt about it, Kendall —you're up to something and somehow you've sweet-talked Slater into going along. Or more likely he's using _you_. Those are the only ways I buy this."

Zach cocked his head. "Not asking you to buy a thing, Lavery."

"Well, a wedding gift might be nice," Kendall put in, and was rewarded with an increase of warm pressure around her shoulders. "Now all I want is to get back to Miranda. Joe must wonder what's happened to us."

Kendall half-expected Ryan to forbid her and Zach from going any farther, but he merely glowered some more. It was Greenlee who announced as if she expected an argument, "Kendall, you can go back in and say good-night to her. Zach, you can, too. But I've already planned to spend the night with her, and that's that. It's something I have to do."

"Fair enough," Zach replied evenly, before Kendall could object. "But you know, Greenlee, this is only the first of many nights to come. Eventually you'll need some sleep of your own, and then one of us will spell you."

This immediate acquiescence to her announcement seemed to lower Greenlee's resistance enough to make her consider Zach's suggestion a reasonable one. "Then you guys work something out with Ryan. But I'm taking the first watch." Turning away from them, she began marching toward the pediatric ICU waiting area.

A short while later, when Kendall went in again to say good-night to her, Miranda was still as immobile and unreal as a virtual baby doll replica of herself. Seeing her like that hurt so much that Kendall had to stifle a sob. She could only hope that Miranda could sense on some innate level that the person closest in life to her mother stood there beside her crib, vowing to do everything in her power—and to make the hospital do everything in its—to make this all go away before long. Then, with a softly blown kiss and a whispered, "I love you, Miranda," Kendall left so that Zach come in for his own time alone with Miranda before Greenlee took over again.

But even though they couldn't spend the rest of the night in Miranda's room, there was no question of them leaving the hospital yet. In implicit agreement, Kendall and Zach camped out in the waiting area with Ryan. Joe Martin had left the hospital, but before leaving he introduced them to the doctor who would remain on call, Dr. Beech. There was nothing more to do but ease themselves into the institutional chairs and try to pass the time until there was any change in Miranda's condition…praying, if they could, for a change for the better, or simply waiting, if they couldn't. Dozing was an equally involuntary action that Ryan soon availed himself of again, and Kendall found herself envying him. She would have given anything for such blessed unconsciousness.

And then at last unconsciousness was hers, as the need of her fatigued body for sleep conquered her overly active mind.

"_Kendall! Kendall, wake up! We need to talk," a sweet high-pitched voice said in her eye._

_Kendall's eyes blinked open and a chill ran through her. "Bianca? Oh, my god, is it really you? They said you were missing! Where have you_ been_?"_

_Bianca smiled mysteriously. "Oh—come on, Kendall, you know I can't tell you that. But tell me where Miranda is. Why isn't she with you like she's supposed to be?"_

_Kendall shifted uncomfortably. "It wasn't up to me, Bianca. The court took her away from me. I tried to keep her but they said I wasn't good enough."_

_Bianca's smile shrank. "Well, that's because I wasn't here to fix things. But still, Kendall, don't you think you could have done a better job? I did all the hard work in having Miranda. You only had to hold on to her."_

"_I'm telling you, Bianca, I tried, I really did. I told everybody you wanted me to have Miranda but it didn't make any difference. I even wore a pillow under my clothes to court so they'd think I was a good mother."_

"_I thought you were good at pretending, Kendall." _

"_But Greenlee ran up to the stand where I was testifying and yanked my dress open. Everybody could see I was naked underneath so I wasn't a fit mother."_

"_Oh, Kendall, please!" Bianca's laugher tinkled like tiny bells. "We're all naked under our clothes. Don't tell me Greenlee got away with that again. But don't worry, I'll speak to her father and he'll set her straight."_

_Kendall began to feel anxious. "No, Bianca, don't do that—you see, I had to let Greenlee do that to me in front of everybody—I couldn't hurt her feelings—" Then Kendall blinked again. "Mother?" Where Bianca was standing now stood Erica in her place._

_Erica spoke more sadly than Bianca had. "We're counting on you, Kendall. Miranda is the last Kane woman. You have to hang on to her. You have to do a better job."_

"_Mother, I just told Bianca, I'm doing the best I can," Kendall pleaded. "I've never had a baby before and I'm scared. I don't know what to do. But I asked Zach Slater to help me."_

"_Zach Slater?" Now Erica was laughing too. "Really, Kendall. Whatever makes you think I could possibly approve of that? Zach Slater is not a nice man. He doesn't know the first thing about babies."_

_Eagerly, Kendall said, "Yes, he does, too, Mother. He's showing me how to feed them, and change them, and play with them. We're going to open a daycare center at the casino. It's going to be called the Miranda Center."_

_Erica threw up her hands in displeasure. "Don't be ridiculous, Kendall. Miranda's sick. Don't you take her to the casino. You need to leave her in the hospital. Now I want you to promise me you'll get that ring appraised. I want to know exactly how much it's worth."_

"_My ring?" Kendall's ring sparkled as brightly as a flame captive under glass. She was so proud of it. "Mother, please, did you _see _my ring? Can't you tell it's worth a lot?"_

"_You bitch, Kendall," J.R. said angrily. "Get rid of that thing. You're supposed to marry me. I'll ruin everything for you if you don't."_

_Kendall ignored J.R. "Mother, where is Jack? I need a lawyer."_

"_You don't need a lawyer. You need to wake up, Kendall. Wake up, Kendall honey, you're dreaming."_

"Kendall, wake up. Dr. Martin is here."

Crossing the divide between sleep and awake was not quite instantaneous, like having a bandage ripped from a wound and having a split second before feeling the pain. Kendall started forward, to find Zach crouched beside her chair and Joe Martin standing in front of them. It took her a moment to bring them into focus and as soon as she did her heart lurched in her chest. "_Miranda_?"

"It's all right, Kendall. I'll tell you what I just told Mr. Slater. Miranda held her own through the night. Her temperature has come down a degree this morning and we're hoping that means she's beginning to respond to the antibiotics."

Kendall had almost forgotten how to react to good news, not that this was anything but extremely qualified good news. "Oh…oh, it's morning already? What time is it?"

"It's a little after eight o'clock," Joe told her. "Would you like to go in and say good morning to Miranda, Kendall? Things are quiet in there at the moment."

"Yes, of course I want to see Miranda! But what about Greenlee? Isn't she still in there?"

"No. I told Greenlee she needed to take a break. She and Ryan just went to the cafeteria for some breakfast."

Zach said, "I was just in with Miranda. Now it's your turn, Kendall."

It seemed the absence of Greenlee was to be taken advantage of. Still, though, there was no discernible change in Miranda to Kendall's eyes when she was with her niece again. "I had a dream about your mommy," Kendall said softly. But it was all hazy now; she could only remember seeing Bianca's face. "You know she loves you very much, don't you? And so do I. We know it's no fun being stuck in here with all these scary machines. But when you're better, we'll go to the playground—we'll go on the swings and eat ice cream cones and we won't breathe a word to Greenlee, okay? Just our little secret."

But between the baby's inability to respond and nurses bustling in and out, achieving any real sense of connection to Miranda was impossible for Kendall. Being in the same room with her would have to suffice. And even that not for long, as less then twenty minutes later, Greenlee returned. It was clear from her dark-circled eyes and drawn face that she was severely dragging.

"You really ought to go home and get some rest, Greenlee," Kendall told her softly on her way out. "Look at you, you're dead on your feet. It won't help Miranda any if you pass out."

"Yeah? Well, you look like you missed out on some beauty sleep yourself," Greenlee retorted. For a few moments they were soldiers on the same side again. "But I already told you I'm not leaving."

"Look, I'll make a deal with you, Greenlee. I already slept a little in the waiting room overnight, but I still feel groggy. I'm going home to shower and change and get something to eat and maybe take a little nap. Then I'll come back and stay with Miranda, while you go home and do the same thing. You must be feeling pretty grungy by now."

"But—"

"No 'buts,' Greenlee," Kendall said firmly. "I know he'd never admit it to me, but I'm sure Ryan would agree with me. And besides, Joe said Miranda's doing a little better and let's face it, that's not because _you_ had anything to do with it."

"But I'm sure Miranda knew I was here—"

"I'm sure she did, too. But will it help Miranda to know you're here but totally exhausted? Come on, if you don't get some rest you're going to start hallucinating."

Greenlee frowned. "Why are you being this nice to me, Kendall?"

"Nice? You think this is being nice, Greenlee?" Kendall scoffed.

"Well…yes. Maybe I'm already hallucinating."

Kendall persisted. "So—deal?"

"Okay, okay…Ryan said pretty much the same thing. Deal," Greenlee sighed.

"What do you know, for once Ryan and I actually agree on something. I'm going now to find Zach to take me home. But we'll be back later. If anything happens before then, anything at all, promise you'll call me?"

Greenlee nodded. "Okay, Kendall. You win."

"It doesn't have to be a contest, you know, Greenlee," Kendall said softly. "It really doesn't."


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

The condo looked exactly as it had when Kendall left it the day before. Furniture still in identical places on floors, bric-a-brac still on original surfaces, rooms hadn't traded spaces with each other. To all outward appearances, nothing had changed and the earth really hadn't taken a notion to shift on its axis. It only felt that way.

Kendall walked in and dropped her bag on the floor with a thud but even the loud noise couldn't dispel the aura of unreality surrounding her. She'd been gone fewer than twenty-four hours; according to her condo, she'd never even left. Everything between it and her was still the same. It was only everything between her and the rest of the world that was different…different, different, different.

Behind her came Zach, carrying the bag of groceries he'd suggested stopping for on the way home. He didn't want to eat in the hospital cafeteria and she couldn't blame him. It wasn't that the food was bad or that he was critical of the ambiance; it was just too public a place. Being in the public eye on his own accord didn't faze him, but he refused to draw unnecessary attention to Miranda, any more than the disappearance of her mother and famous grandmother had already drawn to her….

The brief shopping trip had given them something to do, too, to put off the arrival home. It wasn't at all clear what was going to happen at that point. Now Zach simply began putting the bread, the eggs, the milk, the orange juice, the coffee, whatever else he'd thought to buy, away in the refrigerator and the cupboards without begin asked, as if he were already intimately familiar with her kitchen. Of course, his kitchen was situated just like hers, but that was just the type of man Zach was anyway, Kendall realized that by now…the type of man who did whatever needed to be done, ranging from with a minimum of fuss to pulling out all the stops, whichever seemed most organic to the situation at hand.

And if you didn't like it, well…that was too bad.

_Now what?_ Kendall wondered, from within her current aura. Because she was learning too that she mostly ended up liking it and sometimes even loving it. She moved farther into the room, just far enough to collapse on the sofa and watch Zach at work.

"Coffee?" he asked and then, without waiting for her response, began filling the coffee-maker with water and measuring out fresh-ground coffee.

"You don't need to do all that, Zach." She made a feeble protest for form's sake.

Looking at her from over his shoulder, he replied, "I want some coffee. I want some breakfast too. Okay with you?"

"It's okay if you're planning on doing the cooking." Leaning back against the sofa, Kendall closed her eyes. "If you expect me to, we'll have to call out for breakfast because I'm not sure I even have the energy to eat anything, much less cook it." Again, it was for form's sake; if Zach wanted to eat he was perfectly capable of preparing his own meal.

"Kendall, if I can manage to scramble some eggs and toast some bread, you can manage to eat it," he asserted.

"I'd never look a gift breakfast in the mouth," she admitted. "Oh, wait a minute. Yes, I would, if came from J.R. Oh my god, J.R.!" She leaned forward anxiously. "Zach, what time is it now? I just remembered J.R.'s supposed to be here at noon. Just what I fucking don't need!"

The shell of another unlucky egg was precisely cracked against the side of a bowl, its contents unceremoniously dumped in with the whole, a whisk from the stoneware crock of utensils on the counter selected to be applied to them, before Zach gave his unhurried response. "Two hours to the big appointment. It's barely ten o'clock."

"Oh, if only we could have come back married," Kendall continued to stew. "I wonder what J.R.'s going to do now."

Zach dropped bread into the toaster and stirred the eggs in the pan. "If you have energy to waste on that, put it to some use. Come over here, grab some plates and glasses for the orange juice."

"Bossy, aren't you, Zach?" she muttered. But nevertheless found herself arranging plates, napkins, cutlery, and glasses of juice on the counter: Sometimes it was better to keep busy.

"Yes, I am. And here's your breakfast." He forked steaming scrambled eggs onto their plates from the pan, then brought over buttered toast. "Food tastes better when you work for it."

Kendall poured two mugs of coffee and placed one beside each place setting before perching on one of the two counter stools. "And I think it tastes better when somebody else buys it, cooks it, sets the table for it, and cleans up after it. You know, like when you pick up the phone and dial room service and the table comes rolling into you room like magic? If I'm not mistaken, that's what even you do at your casino."

After taking his own seat, Zach said, "Ah, but without me, there would be no casino and therefore, no room service."

"Or breakfast either," she conceded after eating a few bites of the appetizing food and beginning to feel marginally less uptight. "My compliments to the chef. Really, Zach, I don't know how I would have gotten through any of this at all, if you weren't so different from what I—"

"Don't go there, Kendall," he cut her off. "That was then, this is now. Right? Raise your orange juice and join me in another toast. Ready? Here's to our niece Miranda, to her health and to her happiness."

Repeating "To Miranda," Kendall clinked the edge of her glass against Zach's and took a gulp of the juice. "Do you think J.R. even knows she's sick or if he does will he even care as long as he can still use her to stick it to me?"

Zach chewed a piece of toast thoughtfully. "I think there's no question but that Junior will still try to use Miranda. But stop looking for trouble, Kendall. Remember, we are engaged, if not wed, but only because as fate would have it we put Miranda's welfare before our own and rushed back from our intended marriage."

"But of course we did, Zach! What else could we do?"

"That's my point. If Junior tries to use the circumstances of our non-marriage against us, he might find that it backfires. And one more thing…." Zach paused to pour more coffee.

Waiting impatiently for him to finish the thought, Kendall finally prodded, "Go on. One more thing _what_, Zach?"

"Kendall…." Zach paused again. "From what I observed of Greenlee's behavior, she's suffering a great deal of guilt over Miranda's hospitalization."

Kendall sighed. "I know she is and it's ridiculous. No matter how much I've been dying to wring Greenlee's smug little neck lately, I don't blame her for that. She didn't have any control over Miranda contracting meningitis."

Zach gave a small smile. "That's very gracious of you Kendall. And I believe you, by the way. But tell me, if this had happened while Miranda was temporarily in your care, how do you suspect Greenlee would have handled it?"

Promptly, Kendall replied, "If our positions were reversed, Greenlee and Ryan would nail me to the wall. Believe me, Zach—I don't need you to spell _that_ out for me."

"Good. Then go a step farther, Kendall, and you'll see Greenlee might very well be expecting exactly that treatment from you. Not only expecting it but somewhat afraid she deserves it, for being so adamant in her pretense to being the baby care expert, and have it color her behavior toward you."

"_Greenlee_? Admit she's been wrong about something?" Kendall shook her head. "Greenlee would never admit that under threat of the most grisly torture you could come up with. And I'm including trading in her Manolo Blahniks for flip-flops and taking away her Lacy's credit card and making her shop at the Price Club."

Shrugging, Zach said, "We'll see what happens." Standing up and stretching his legs, Zach continued, "Now I'll leave you to get ready for Junior's next performance. I'm going home to play back messages and make sure my minions are still printing money in the basement."

Kendall laughed in spite of herself at the unexpected touch of humor, but then her face froze in panic, a panic she hated to feel rising up in her, but felt powerless against. Turning around on her stool to face him, she asked, "You're coming back soon, though, aren't you? J.R. was just so awful the last time that I dread seeing him again—I _need_ you to be able to pull this off."

"Do you think I'd miss it?" Zach asked rather darkly, and it was as if a sudden chill had pervaded the room. "It's time to have done with young Adam Chandler Junior's interference in something that concerns him not." His words ended on such a harsh note that Kendall nearly recoiled.

"Don't do that, Zach" she said swiftly. Before he could challenge her on what she meant, Kendall added, "Don't put up that wall. I like it so much better when you don't, and you don't need to do for my benefit."

His eyebrows arched slightly. "It wasn't for your benefit."

"Well, then for _yours_ either. I know that we…well, that our relationship is kind of hard to define but sometimes, Zach, I could almost swear…." Her voice trailed off, and it was his turn to ask what she meant.

"What could you almost swear, Kendall?" he asked, his voice sounding gentler now.

She held her hand up so that her ring caught the light. "When I look at this, and when I think about how we made love yesterday—and I have thought about it a lot—I could almost swear that no matter what else our relationship is all about, at least we don't _hate_ each other any more."

Zach's face relaxed into back into its small, almost secret, smile. "You've inspired numerous emotions in me, Kendall. I won't deny some have been negative. But I've never hated you."

"I hated you," Kendall said frankly. "But you knew that."

Although he had said he was leaving, Zach still hadn't made it very far to the door. "I don't believe you troubled to hide it. But you know what, Kendall? I prefer that. If you're going to hate me, hate me to my face as you did, don't hate me behind my back where I can't see you."

Finally stepping down from her stool, Kendall approached him as he watched her. "I don't hate you either way now, Zach. Sometimes I could almost swear to liking you. So when you do that walling-off thing it can have an effect on me. I think I told you how I react to walls?"

"The black and blue thing," he remembered. "Ah, yes. But Kendall, it's not worth hurting yourself over."

She looked up into his face. "Don't you think you should let me be the judge of that?"

In response, Zach slowly lifted her left hand between his hands, turning it palm-side up and stroking his right thumb over the pulse in her wrist. The network of veins beneath his finger was pale blue and very fine. With the tip of a finger and using the most featherlike of touches he traced a vein to her elbow, and then retraced it back to its beginning in her wrist. "Feel that, Kendall? Your skin is very thin," he whispered.

"Maybe. But if you keep doing that, you'll be able to tell that my skin is resilient, too, Zach. Very resilient." Their eyes met, and she inhaled softly at his delicate strokes, the delicacy of his touch in marked contrast to the size and tensile strength of his fingers. It was an almost mesmerizing thing to feel.

"I know," he said. "I remember."

"Zach," she breathed, "you said we still had a couple of hours before J.R.…."

"That was before we ate breakfast, Kendall. We're probably down to an hour and a half now." He kept stroking.

"I think probably…that's enough time to…to get ready. Don't you, Zach?"

Zach's gaze penetrated hers. "I should think."

Kendall shivered in anticipation. Maybe it didn't make sense…a few moments of physical pleasure stolen from a day full of other demands that could scarcely afford such a luxury, moments that were surely unwise, undoubtedly selfish, maybe even unseemly, but….

When Zach lowered his head to hers and lightly kissed her waiting lips, the joint pressure of his mouth against hers, of his thumb against her pulse, as tenuous as it was, made her almost faint with a desire that eclipsed her very reason. The kiss began deceptively, as lightly and delicately as that feel of butterfly wings trailing over her wrist and arm, the merest tracing of lips, barely a touch. But wherever the kiss landed it ignited and soon it took on a life of its own.

Withdrawing her hand from his grasp and turning the tables on him, claiming his wrist with her fingers—Kendall took a step backwards and led him that way, with their mouths still touching, into her bedroom.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

It should have called for guilt and shame. More guilt and shame even than had overwhelmed Kendall following her first intimate incident with Zach, for with Miranda in the hospital events had become even bleaker than they already were. And although Miranda seemed to be improving, she could always take a turn for the worse. _But we're heading right back to the hospital after we get rid of J.R.,_ Kendall rationalized with the area of her brain still producing coherent thoughts. _Greenlee wouldn't let me take over until after that anyway and if anything happens she'll call._

Then Zach raised his head and looked beyond her into the interior of the bedroom. She sensed something interfering with his mood as well. "Zach, what is it?"

"Kendall, are you sure there is no ghost here for you?" he asked carefully.

"No." Her voice was soft, but staunch. "Absolutely none for me. I see only you, Zach. But are you saying there is one for you?" Her hand crept up to his face and brushed his cheek.

He exhaled slowly. "Then, no, I'm not saying that. I see only you, too." He drew her hand to his lips and pressed them against her palm.

So Kendall deliberately closed her mind to everything she didn't want to see. For one thing, there wasn't time enough for it now during this all-too-finite break between the battles they were waging on what felt like all fronts. For another, satisfying the steadily growing hunger Zach aroused in her was too vital to her own continuing survival as an intact, functioning organism. Especially when he lifted her up in his arms and carried her the short distance to the bed. Laying her upon it, he tumbled down beside her, and then she was immediately leaning over him, kissing him and enjoying the sturdy feel of him beneath her.

Except for one thing…. "Zach, you still have your shirt on."

He looked down, not moving otherwise. "Hmm, so I do. Pants too. And shoes."

"Are you planning to just lie there?" Kendall complained teasingly, hooking a finger in the neck of his shirt. "Come on, you've got too many clothes on."

"I'm feeling rather lazy. Perhaps you could—?"

"_Zach_! Okay, but I can't do this with you lying down. You need to sit up."

Sighing, he raised himself, and her fingers went deftly to work on his shirt buttons, quickly peeling the gray shirt from his muscular shoulders until he was bare to the waist. Unable to resist, Kendall trailed her fingers lightly over his firm, smooth chest. "I have a confession, Zach."

"Do I want to hear this, Kendall?"

"I hope so, or I wouldn't be admitting it. You know that time I watched you working out? I was a little smitten even then."

He chuckled. "A little? Your eyes were burning holes though me."

"Please give me some credit, Zach. I was more subtle than that. Way more subtle. Wasn't I?"

"Uh-huh, way more. Kendall…." Zach's voice took on a huskier tone as she continued to caress him.

"Hmm?"

"You needn't be subtle now. And it's my turn to complain that you're wearing too much." He reached for the wide straps of her dress, but appeared flummoxed by how to deal with them without shredding the dress. "What is the password to _this_?"

Obligingly, Kendall presented her back to him, peeking over her shoulder. "That long metal thing down the middle? You should recognize it. It's known as a zipper."

"Ah."

Large hands fumbled at her back followed by a current of cool air as the two sides of the dress fell open. More cool air rushed in after it as he slid the straps down her arms.

Kendall rose to her feet with her back still to him and allowed gravity, lazily assisted by Zach, to slide the material over her hips. The maneuver left her dress in a heap on the floor and Kendall herself almost completely unclothed save for the very miniscule lace panties she wore.

The dainty scrap didn't stand a chance when Zach growled, "Come here."

Was there anything that could make you feel giddier?—there certainly wasn't for Kendall at that instant. Her conscience attempted another reproach for such blatant self-indulgence, but mere pangs of conscience couldn't begin to compete with the cravings she felt toward this man, not when he seemed so very ready—and was equally unrepentant about it—to satisfy them.

"Now you again," she whispered, reaching for Zach's belt. But impatience was making her clumsy, so it took both of them to remove his trousers and with them his boxers and footwear. Now there was nothing between them but skin.

Zach eased her back down to the bed with him, where they sat facing each other. When his hands moved toward her Kendall dreamily anticipated them caressing her as hers had caressed him, but instead they reached behind her, where she felt her hair tugging. She realized Zach was untying the length of blue ribbon still restraining her tousled curls, which sprang free and wild.

Waiting expectantly to see what next he would do, Kendall was surprised when Zach pulled the ribbon taut against the base of her skull, using it to incline her head toward his. She felt another rush of air tickle her back as it then fluttered to the bed, and Zach's two hands came forward to cup her jaw. He guided it the rest of the way to where his mouth awaited hers. With an uneven inhalation Kendall's lips parted against his.

They kissed long and lingeringly and almost wonderingly at their good fortune in discovering this newfound oasis amid the terrible landscape surrounding them. Again, Kendall disregarded any risk, focusing all her attention on the more imminent need. At first Zach allowed for breathing room between their bodies…but the tenor of the contact began to change when they pulled closer. With his hands roaming over her sensitive flesh, becoming more ever purposeful and precise in their meaning, her previously solid form seemed to melt into a pulsating stream…

She shifted restlessly. "Zach, um…." Slowly she drew away enough to search his face. Although not accustomed to suffering overmuch from modesty, the frank longing in his gaze saying louder than any words how much he wanted to lose himself in her, lose himself in her as fiercely as she wanted to lose—and maybe find—herself in him, nearly made Kendall blush.

"What is it, Kendall?" Zach's voice was deep and textured as cut velvet.

"About this—I want you to know—no second thoughts. About anything."

He found her left hand and squeezed it tightly. The constriction pressed the smaller diamonds studding her engagement band into the fingers on either side of her ring finger, but the stones, and the largest one of all, also dug into Zach's hand. The gesture signified a mute reminder, perhaps to them both, of the legitimacy of their status and of their entitlement to its benefits—if nothing else. Releasing her hand, Zach leaned in and followed the reminder with a kiss whose meaning was even more explicit.

From that moment on there was no turning back…they were both still dimly aware the clock was ticking. Touches became more urgent, responses more impassioned, the need for fulfillment invaded every curve and angle and cell. Desire swelled, stealing their footing from the edge where they hovered, and then flinging them together, weightless and breathless, somewhere beyond any constraint of gravity.

Unwillingly sinking back to earth, Kendall wished with all her heart she need never return, wished she could hold onto the idyllic moment forever. She couldn't and she knew it. That was the price to be paid, or at least part of the price to be paid, that this could be but a short-lived reprieve, only meant to—only meant to _what_, really, besides its most obvious aim?

_Zach takes me somewhere I've never even _been_ before. This is more than the most amazing sex I've ever had or a expedient arrangement. But what_ is_ it exactly?_

He kissed her cheek before throwing his long legs over the side of the bed and clambering to his feet. Kendall continued to lie there while he added barefoot around to her side and stooped to become almost eye-level with her. "Hey," he said.

"I know. 'Get up, Kendall, J.R. will be here soon,'" she groaned. "And then on to the hospital."

Sitting back on his heels, Zach replied, "Fewer than forty-five minutes and counting to your next hot date."

"_Ugh_. Can't I procrastinate just a little longer, Zach?" she pleaded.

"Afraid not, sweetheart. Duty calls."

"Oh, all right. But I wish this didn't have to end so soon. I can't remember whose idea it was—but whoever's it was, I'm glad it was one of us."

"Mutual inspiration." Zach smiled and rose to his feet, giving Kendall an unobstructed view of his naked form. "I've a change of clothes in my bag out front. It'll be faster to grab a shower here. Tell you what, you relax while I—"

Catching him off-guard, she bounced to her feet and brushed past him. "No way, handsome! I'll race you. Last one in the shower buys dinner at the hospital cafeteria tonight." Laughing, she stumbled into the bathroom, a race she couldn't possibly have won unless Zach let her.

Even though the advantages of showering together had to take a back seat to time management, it wasn't a complete loss. Kendall emerged from the shower glowing and Zach appeared reinvigorated too. He pulled on his clothes in the bedroom while she did her hair and makeup in the bathroom. She was buttoning the jacket that matched the slim beige slacks she wore when somebody knocked at the front door.

Kendall exchanged a glance with Zach. "_Shit_," she swore with every ounce of vehemence she possessed. "I guess this is show time, huh?"

"Not quite. Come here." When she did, he swung her into his arms and kissed her quickly but unmistakably.

The unexpectedness of it made her heart suddenly beat faster. "Zach, what was that for?"

"Your lipstick was too perfect. Now you look duly kissed," he said offhandedly. "As a fiancée should."

"Boy, you just think of everything, Zach." Kendall's voice was full of admiration. "I feel duly kissed, too. So which one of us gets to answer the door?"

"Let me play host."

After giving Zach a patronizing appraisal upon being admitted, and with his usual attitude of having a right to anything he wanted in the room, J.R. didn't bother stating a preamble but started right in with a nasty, "So it is true. Excuse me while I hurl."

"You remember where the mop is, Junior?" Zach asked blandly.

"Cut the crap, Slater! You son of a bitch, I'll—"

"Is what true, J.R.?" Kendall asked hastily.

J.R. turned his wrath on her. "Don't play dumb with me, Kendall! The word's gone out like I'm sure you figured it would. You and Slater supposedly formalized your shacking up. You really expect me to buy that?"

Still wrapped in the warmth of Zach's last kiss, Kendall didn't find it difficult to be convincing. "Zach and I are engaged, J.R., if that's what you mean There's nothing 'supposed' about it—look." She flashed her ring.

Making a show of covering his eyes from the glare, J.R. snarled, "So there was an explosion at the glass factory, that means you're engaged? Get real, Kendall. Slater, I hate to tell you this, but you don't need to give her a ring to get her in the sack."

"_Hey_." Zach turned on J.R. "Watch your foul mouth. I won't allow you to speak of Kendall that way."

J.R.'s face turned red. "_You _won't allow, Slater? Bullshit! I'll speak of or _to_ Kendall any way I damn please!"

"No, you won't, Junior. Not while I'm here." Zach spoke quietly, but Kendall could feel the menace he suddenly exuded from half-way across the room.

"Stop it, J.R., just stop it, _please_. My ring is real and so is the engagement." Kendall began to feel strangely detached.

"Like I'm really supposed to believe you, Kendall, after your infamous track record of lies, distortions, and deceptions?" J.R. gibed. "This is some kind of trick. It has to do with Miranda, doesn't it?"

"Everything has to do with Miranda right now, J.R. She's the only reason Zach and I aren't already married."

"No, Kendall, I mean, you and Slater cooked this whole thing up just so you could—"

"So we could_ what_, Junior?" Zach challenged smoothly "I'd like to know."

Furiously, J.R. said, "Fuck off, Slater. Kendall knows what I mean. We had a _deal_. Which she's reneged on and which I don't plan to take lying down."

Kendall spoke up again. "You mean the deal where you screw over your best new pals Ryan and Greenlee to get custody of Miranda for me _if_ I married you, or else you painted me as the town tramp at the custody hearing?"

"Well, _duh_. I was only trying to help you get custody of Miranda, Kendall. But c'mon, can I help it if the shoe fits…?" J.R. shrugged. "

"I've warned you twice, Junior. Let's make the third time the charm."

Zach advanced on J.R., but Kendall interrupted. "Wait, Zach, okay? J.R.'s always this mean when he's crossed. I want to know something first. How did you hear about us, J.R.? We've only told Ryan and Greenlee."

"Stuart told me. He's a volunteer in the children's wing at the hospital He ran into Ryan this morning. Convenient, huh?"

"And you sped right over to congratulate us." Zach used his bland tone again.

"Slater—" J.R. raised his arm, evidently thought better of it, and lowered it. "No, I'm not here to congratulate you. I'm here to say this is all total and utter bullshit."

"You're misguided as usual, Junior. You see, Kendall and I have been planning our wedding for some time. As Kendall told you, it was delayed because Miranda took sick."

"Then how come Kendall didn't say a single fucking word about her wedding plans _yesterday_?" J.R. demanded. "Kendall? You want to field that one?"

"Because it was none of your business, J.R., or anyone else's until we were ready to announce it. Zach and I were trying to keep it very quiet and private."

"Sure you were," J.R. sneered. "Because what _perfect_ timing it is. I mean, such a _logical_ time for a wedding—after the _plane crash_ and all."

Kendall took a deep breath. "I want you to leave now, J.R. One of the reasons Zach and I came home from the hospital was to break the news to you. Now we need to get back."

"I will be happy to escort you out, Junior," Zach added, blandly again.

J.R.'s face grew even redder as he backed toward the door. "You were supposed to be marrying _me_, Kendall, so don't think you'll get away with marrying _him_. That doesn't change anything. Like I said, this isn't the end of it, not by a long shot."

"No. This is the end of it," Zach told the other man. "Sorry, Junior, but the best man won. If you'd like to pursue this further, however, I'll refer you to our lawyer."

J.R. started to argue again but suddenly clamped his lips shut. He turned around and stomped out.

"Oh, Jesus," Kendall breathed after Zach had shut the door on their visitor. "That was rough."

"He said some things others will be thinking," Zach pointed out. "Things we should be prepared for. But Kendall, you handled him well."

"Because you were here this time, Zach. Otherwise I would have completely lost it." And then she saw the two still tightly clenched fists at Zach's sides, belying the calmness of his words to J.R.—and J.R. must have seen them too. "Zach?" she said softly. "Come here."

But Kendall met him half-way. Standing on tip-toe, she brought his face down to hers and kissed him soundly.

"What was that for?" he asked when she was done—much as she had, earlier.

Feeling slightly dizzy, whether from reaction to the kiss or reaction to what preceded it, she wasn't quite certain, although she had a pretty good idea—Kendall covered with, "Oh, as long as I needed to reapply my lipstick anyway, I thought I may as well give J.R. a thrill in case he's out there spying through the window."


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

Over the next several days, both Kendall and Zach spent more time at the hospital than at home. Zach went back to relying heavily on his dependable, experienced staff to keep his casinos running smoothly, while Kendall and Greenlee relied completely on Simone to keep Fusion going. While Miranda remained in the pediatric ICU, normal life as they knew it had ceased to exist. There had been little enough normal about their lives in the week prior to Miranda contracted meningitis, but dealing with her condition took precedence over everything else…even memorial services for Miranda's mother, grandmother, great-uncle, and cousin. Even custody suits.

For a time there would be good news: Miranda's temperature would wane, raising hopes that the most immediate crisis was finally past. Then it would wax again, along with everyone's fears and anxieties. Finally, on the morning of the fourth day, her temperature was normal, and stayed normal. The meningitis was in retreat.

But as Joe Martin reminded them there was still a long road ahead; Miranda would need at least three more days of antibiotic treatment to make certain the infection was completely cured before facing the three days of chemotherapy preparation for her bone marrow transplant…a transplant whose donor was still unknown, adding to the strain felt by all.

Through it all Miranda remained serenely oblivious in her enforced slumber as the drugs and the machines did their work, a state Kendall sometimes envied her. Whether she sat beside Miranda's crib as the little girl slept on in her isolation room, or fidgeted nervously outside in the waiting area waiting to go in again whenever Zach, Greenlee or, less often, Ryan came out and it was her turn again, Kendall felt as if she were living in a state of suspended animation anyway. After several days spent in the sobering hospital atmosphere, even the routing of J.R. seemed indistinct now.

She sat now in the sun room at the far end of the corridor from the pediatric unit. Off the beaten path, it tended to be less populated than the regular waiting room, especially in the evening. She'd needed to escape Ryan's perpetual glower while Greenlee was sitting with Miranda. Some hours earlier, upon checking his voice mail messages, Zach had departed for what he said would be a brief meeting, although he had not returned yet.

_Zach_. Kendall found her thoughts straying to her fiancé, in what was becoming an almost involuntary action—and not only because they were spending so many hours a day together. Their hours together devoted to Miranda were unavoidable. As for the rest…the hours they spared away from the hospital to take care of their own needs…in a way Kendall never could have foreseen until, she supposed, a dire emergency like this put her preconceived and wrong notions to the test, her time with Zach was fast becoming the most real, yet secret, part of her existence.

As an empathetic lover he was unparalleled and their stolen hours of lovemaking had come to feel as vital to Kendall as eating and sleeping, but it was more than that. Around other people, Zach's walls remained stationed at varying heights; with her the walls that had come down, stayed down, with the effect of creating an ease between them, an ease to which Kendall couldn't help responding.

Unlike so many other—if not all—of the men she'd known, Zach never judged her and found her wanting, never forced her into a defensive position, never stored up her mistakes to use against her. He never forced her into an unnaturally exalted position she could never live up to, either. Both attitudes were as liberating and addictive in the long-term as the most intensely explosive physical release was in the short-term. _He's just so…so _Zach_-ish_, Kendall thought, knowing perfectly well what she meant by that and also knowing perfectly well she could never adequately explain it to an outside party. The closest analogy was Zach's ability to render things down to their essence, which both exposed and obliterated any associated bullshit.

Along with everything else, though, her marriage to Zach had been put on hold, although their engagement had by now made the headlines. Myrtle had been the first to express her feelings, the day after the aborted wedding when Kendall and Zach had returned to the hospital after their altercation with J.R. to find Myrtle in the waiting room with Ryan.

"Why, Kendall honey! You could have knocked me over with a feather when I heard!" Myrtle had beamed, enveloping Kendall in a heartfelt hug redolent of English violets and even sniffling back a few tears.

"Oh, Myrtle, I'm so sorry for not calling when we got in last night," Kendall had apologized, feeling rather terrible she'd forgotten all about Myrtle, and that Myrtle had had to learn such surprising news from Ryan of all people.

Myrtle had immediately responded with, "Don't you dare apologize to me, darlin'. You've hardly had time to draw breath with all the worries you've had. It makes no difference to me who got to me first. But"—and Myrtle's eyes had twinkled like Fourth of July sparklers—"I have a bone to pick with _you_, Zach Slater! Aren't you the sly rogue sweeping Kendall off her feet and keeping it under your hat?"

That remark had earned Myrtle a crushing embrace from the sly rogue himself, triggering more sentimental tears over how you never knew where or when love was going to tap you on the shoulder, or whose hand it was going to tap you with when it did.

Fooling Myrtle had given Kendall one of her very few twinges about the deception. Myrtle was the one person who deserved to know the truth—which was exactly what made it impossible to share it with her. How could they expect the honest, forthright Myrtle to protect their secret—to lie for them—even if she wholeheartedly agreed the ruse was a just and necessary one?

As the word spread, other Pine Valleyites who might not have considered offering support in person to the aunt and uncle of a hospitalized toddler found it served as an excuse to approach Kendall with their opinions of her sudden engagement. This day in particular had welcomed a number of visitors to the pediatric ICU.

"Of course, Kendall, your mother was also an expert at juggling men, er, man_y_ things," came from Mary Smythe, Greenlee's even more caustic mother who, herself, was also expert at juggling men, especially wealthy ones. "So congratulations on landing a man at a time like this. Didn't your mother also believe in keeping it in the family? And I think anyone _so_ the cutting edge as Erica was would surely not expect her own daughter to observe anything so obsolete as a mourning period."

"My mother would understand exactly what I am doing and why," Kendall had replied firmly. Inside she was shaking, but a hospital waiting room was not the place to start a cat fight. Erica _would_ have understood doing whatever it took to get custody of Miranda, and what else really mattered?

"Like mother like daughter, I suppose," Mary had sniffed, giving every appearance of eyeing Kendall's slender waistline for evidence of a bump before departing, before Kendall could point out that Greenlee was proof against that proverb–for Greenlee was generally less intolerable than her mother.

Then there was Adam Chandler, J.R.'s father and twice husband to Erica, whose opinion Kendall respected slightly more than his son's. "What is this all about, Kendall?" he'd asked in that falsely avuncular way he had that went with his silver thatch of hair. "I can't imagine why you'd go against your mother's wishes to marry a hoodlum like Zach Slater, Kendall, but you can be honest with me. Is Slater blackmailing you?" Adam had sounded almost hopeful.

Well, that was marriage as the Chandlers understood it—how very short a distance the acorn had fallen from the tree. Adam's unknowingly ironic question might have made Kendall break into hysterical laughter if she hadn't been in such close proximity to nurses with ready access to hypodermic needles and tranquilizers. "Of course not, Adam. Zach is not blackmailing me."

"Then why _are_ you marrying that…ruffian?" Adam had persisted with a subtle shudder. "You know Erica would _never_ approve. I shouldn't need to remind you his brother Michael stole Chandler Enterprises right out from under me, and—"

"You're so right, Adam. You _don't _need to remind me," Kendall had said coldly. "I'm marrying Zach because I want to and luckily for me he feels the same way."

On the other hand, Opal and Palmer Courtlandt had stiffly offered their best wishes, no doubt arm-twisted into it by Myrtle. "Well, Kendall, I just hope you know what you're doin'. Myrt and I do enjoy playing the slots at his casino, though. So I wish you and Mr. Sl—Zach all the best," Opal had said dubiously.

"As do I, and I would have said so immediately, if Opal didn't always try to get in the first word. But I was only joking, you know, Kendall, that night I accused you of being in love with Slater. I hope you didn't really take me seriously." Palmer had actually looked as if he was afraid Kendall might have.

Because they were Erica's oldest friends, Kendall had tried to give them credit for meaning well.

One trait all the visitors apparently shared was the instinct for timing their visits during Zach's absence. Kendall was just as glad of it; she suspected his presence would not have enhanced any of the encounters. But oh, what an even longer freaking day they had helped turn it into. The wall clock beside the door now read seven-thirty, and she was hungry. _Zach, where the hell are you?_ Kendall fretted.

A lidded Styrofoam cup suddenly swam into her field of vision and came to a stop beneath her nose, conveyed by a large hand with long, strong fingers, a hand she had come to know very well. Lifting her eyes, Kendall discovered its owner gazing down on her with a serious expression. In his other hand he held a second cup which he also extended to her.

"Pick one," Zach said.

"Zach, thanks anyway, but I am just _so_ coffeed out—"

"Go ahead. Pick one," he repeated.

Rolling her eyes, Kendall took from him the nearest cup and popped the lid. "Ice cream!" she exclaimed in surprise.

"Frozen yogurt. Here's a spoon." Zach pulled two plastic spoons wrapped in napkins from his jacket pocket and handed one to her.

Kendall dug in. "Mmm, and you even got chocolate, too. Don't tell me you got this from the cafeteria—the frozen yogurt machine's always empty whenever I try it."

"You need to be more persuasive. But I didn't know if you preferred chocolate or vanilla. I had them make a fresh batch of each."

"But you made me pick one without knowing which was which."

"You got the chocolate on your first try."

As tired as she was, Kendall laughed. "I swear to god, Zach, you must be psychic. I just now noticed I was hungry and I don't have the energy to eat food with texture. Then you deliver like magic something I don't even need to chew."

"Before you dig in, tell me how Miranda is. Lavery was in the waiting room but you know what? I've had my fill of talking jackasses for the day."

"Ha. Tell me about it," Kendall replied fervently. "Well, I'm glad you figured out I was in here. Miranda's been the same all day. Her temperature's staying down and there's really nothing else to report."

A smile briefly lit up Zach's face. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Kendall realized she was really the only one eating. Not only was Zach not eating or pretending to eat, he suddenly looked to be a million miles away. "You're quiet, Zach," she commented. "Or did you decide I'm a talking jackass too?"

"Kendall…." He paused.

She put down her cup of frozen yogurt. "Zach, what is it? You were gone for a pretty long time. Did something happen at the casino?"

"My meeting was there. The meeting didn't concern the casino." He stood up and started pacing back and forth, tracing ever wider arcs in the industrial carpet.

"Will you please stop _doing_ that, Zach? You're making me even more nervous than I was." Kendall patted the seat beside her that he'd just vacated. "Sit down and tell me what's going on before my imagination goes into overdrive—and boy, do you know it can."

"Finish your yogurt before it melts."

"_Zaa–ach_!" Kendall almost shouted in frustration. "You can't fob me off with yogurt!"

"Kendall, I don't want to talk about it." Zach sounded wearier than she'd realized at first.

"What, you don't think my day was shitty day too? But I have no intention of sparing you a single gory detail. For starters I'll have you know that half of Pine Valley trooped through here giving me the third degree."

He stopped in his pacing. "The third degree about what?"

"What else?—you and me, of course. They're awarding us Pine Valley's Couple of the Year trophy." Kendall tried to glare but somehow simply couldn't arrange her features in one. It wasn't that Zach's walls were up, exactly, because he wasn't deadly calm. But by pacing he made a moving target she couldn't hit. She couldn't seem to hit it even when he wasn't moving.

Zach looked away. "I'm sorry you had to face that ordeal alone."

Kendall sighed. "Well, we're not supposed to be joined at the hip all the time, Zach. And…." She went to where he stood and stood directly in front of him. "I'm not a nag who needs to know about every second of your day. But, as you very well know…I don't take kindly to being shut out."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Is that what I'm doing?"

"Yep—and after such a good start, too, with the yogurt presentation. But remember, Zach, we don't really have the luxury of me pulling information out of you like I'm a plumber and you're a clogged drain."

"You _are_ a nag." Before Kendall could protest she found herself wrapped in Zach's arms and heard him add, "My irresistible force." Then, before she could change gears and relish the embrace, he held her slightly away from him. "Kendall, my meeting was with the Cambias board of directors and their legal counsel."

"_Cambias_? What did they want with you, Zach? I knew you were trying to break your father's will and take Cambias back from Ethan. Ethan used to rant and rave about it. But…but you don't need to do that anymore," she finished quietly.

"You know it wasn't Cambias I wanted, don't you, Kendall?" Zach searched her face.

"I _lived_ with your fight every day, Zach. I didn't want to admit it but I could also see Cambias ruining Ethan—or so I thought. What I didn't know was Ethan was already ruined." Kendall gave a bitter little laugh.

"Kendall, I'm sorry—"

"No, please don't be. I'm over it. It's just that I hate to be made a fool of and Ethan made a big one of me."

"Ethan was the fool. In more ways than one. You see, Kendall, he left no will. And he had no children. So the inheritance laws of this state automatically make me, as his only known parent, Ethan's sole heir."

"Oh, Jesus, Zach. _Jesus_," Kendall shivered. "No wonder you're upset."

"I now own Ethan's share of Cambias without lifting a finger," Zach said simply.

"And you don't want it now, any more than you ever did?"

"I don't have to take it. But it seems Ethan was steering a real course of disaster at Cambias. He understood nothing about business—or people. The company's gone into a real nosedive. The board is asking me to come in and reverse it."

They looked at each other. Kendall understood to some extent what was being asked of Zach, and what he was being offered as well. The opportunity to reposition Cambias on the map in an effective way, to take back the name he was born with and burnish it to a new and positive luster reflecting Zach's face, not the faces of his tyrannical father, corrupt brother, or weak son. But was that an ambition Zach had ever aspired to?

"Did you give them an answer yet?" Kendall finally asked.

Zach shook his head. "We went round and round. Ultimately I didn't. I wanted your input."

"You have a funny way of asking for it!" Kendall threw up her hands. "What _am_ I going to do with you, Zach? You say you want my input—and then won't tell me on what!"

"She shoots, she scores." The side of Zach's mouth curved into a half-smile "I expected discussing this between us to be awkward."

"Because of Ethan? Okay. I understand that," Kendall said more softly. "And I really am flattered you care what I think. But right now I couldn't put two coherent thoughts in a row to say what that is. Can I sleep on it?"

His voice lowered. "On one condition. Include me in the sleeping arrangements."

The tremor that rippled through Kendall had nothing to do with fatigue but before she could reply their tête-à-tête was interrupted by Greenlee's tactless arrival.

Greenlee was blessedly brief and to the point. "If you can manage to tear yourselves away from each other for once, you need to come with me and Ryan up to Joe's office. He just sent word down that he wants to talk to all of us right away."


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

"Greenlee, did Joe say why he wants to see us?" Kendall asked apprehensively. "Does he have bad news?'

"I don't know, I'm not in his inner magical medicine man circle any more than you are, Kendall! I just told you everything the nurse told me, so hurry up and let's go! Ryan's already at the elevator." Greenlee motioned impatiently.

Kendall persisted, "But you were just with Miranda, weren't you? Did something happen?"

"Nothing changed while I was in there." Greenlee turned and began trotting down the corridor, her petite frame moving so rapidly that Kendall's much more willowy one had trouble keeping up with it.

Zach followed behind Kendall, his brain cycling back and forth between the only two scenarios he could imagine causing Joe to summon the Laverys, Kendall and himself to his office this late. Either a bone marrow donor had been found among one the four of them for Miranda—or a donor hadn't been found.

Kendall turned back to him, her face and voice both pinched with fresh worry. "Why do you think Joe wants us, Zach? Do you think it's about the transplant?"

Trying not to add to her fears by revealing his own, all Zach could do was nod neutrally, keeping his own features in a composed mask, as virtually impossible as that was.

"What are you doing now, Kendall, stopping to take a survey? Come _on_!" With Ryan in the lead, Greenlee busily herded them along like an overzealous border collie.

In marked contrast, Kendall loped along like a greyhound in slow motion; giving the impression of dragging her feet even while moving swiftly. Sensing the panic affecting her strides and that it exceeded even his, Zach easily caught up with her, silently taking her arm. He received a grateful look in the brief upraising of Kendall's gaze to his.

At this late hour Joe's reception area was deserted. As soon as they reached it, Joe stepped out from his spacious inner office, the door to which was open. The hospital chief of staff wore a rather perturbed expression. Zach heard both Kendall and Greenlee suck in their breaths when they saw it.

"You wanted to see all of us, Joe?" Ryan was the first to speak.

Joe hesitated. "Er…yes, eventually, I would like to speak with all of you, but I didn't ask to see you all at _once_, Ryan."

"That's what the nurse told me," Greenlee explained officiously.

"Then there was a slight miscommunication, for which I apologize, Greenlee. However, we'll remedy it this way. I'll begin by speaking with one of you first. Mr. Slater, will you please come into my office? The rest of you may wait out here for the moment."

"Can't I come in too, Joe?" Kendall instantly pleaded. "You _can't_ just expect me to wait quietly out here wondering what you're in there saying to Zach, especially if it's about Miranda!"

"I can't invite you into a private consultation with Mr. Slater, Kendall, any more than I could invite Mr. Slater into a private consultation with you," Joe demurred. "That would require Mr. Slater's consent, not mine."

"Oh," Kendall replied in a deflated tone, but Zach gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Doctor Martin, Kendall's my fiancé. Anything you say to me can be said to her."

"That is very sweet, but what about _us_, Zach?" Greenlee demanded. "What happened to being treated like _equals_? Is it Ryan's and my fault that the nurse screwed up the message?"

"I want to know the answer to that too. What entitles Slater and Kendall to be singled out for special treatment?" Ryan asked angrily.

Joe's voice was firm. "Surely you two heard what I just now said to Kendall. Now please let's not delay this any longer. Mr. Slater, Kendall—? This way, please."

"But Joe—," Ryan began, then desisted as Joe unequivocally frowned in refusal.

Greenlee looked at Joe, at Ryan, finally at Kendall, sniffled loudly, and rubbed her large sad eyes as a tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. Zach could feel waves of sympathy rolling from Kendall toward Greenlee—Kendall was softening, as she always seemed to, toward the other, less sensitive, girl. It wasn't even necessary for her to say out loud she wished Greenlee could join them in Doctor Martin's office. Zach knew that she did. And wherever Greenlee went, Ryan followed.

_Fuck_. But there was no help for it. Zach said, "They may as well join us too."

"Are you certain you understand what you're agreeing to, Mr. Slater? Joe asked in some surprise. "You're agreeing to allow me to release what may be your privileged medical information to everyone present."

"I understand," Zach assured him.

"Then let me just add that this would apply to any of you in Mr. Slater's place," the doctor added. "By consenting to any outside parties being present,_ any_ of you would be agreeing to the same thing."

The cautious caveat didn't camouflage what Zach had already deduced from the unspoken message so far. If he was correct in his deduction, it was something they would all know very soon anyway. Moreover, if he was correct, how could he forego seeing the looks on their faces when they heard it together with him?

"Very well, Mr. Slater, with your expressed consent I'll allow everyone in. All of you, then, come this way."

Joe's office was made for consultation, boasting a sofa facing his large desk, with two armchairs facing each other at right angles to the desk. Greenlee immediately pulled Ryan down beside her on the sofa, so Zach took one armchair and Kendall the other. Like a fidgeting little girl, Kendall was perched on the edge of her seat with her head turned toward the doctor.

Although Zach's awareness remained more focused on Kendall than on Joe Martin, she was apparently too distracted to perceive his close absorption in her, a state of affairs with which Zach was perfectly fine: His awareness of her seemed well beyond even his control. Even during the talks with the Cambias board, his main concern had been how Kendall would be affected by whatever decision he made regarding their offer. Her response to Joe's announcement, however, should be easier to predict.

"Now, then," Joe began gravely. "We've all been anxiously waiting for the lab to send up the results of the blood tests you each had the other night. As you know, we're looking for a bone marrow match for Miranda. Now the mostly likely match for her would have been a sibling. Since that wasn't an option, we tested you, as her closest relatives, in the hopes that one of you—"

The tension in the room was already so thick only a machete could have cut though it. Greenlee made it even thicker when she interrupted with, "Please, Joe, we _know_ all that already! Can't you just get to the _point_? You don't need to recite the Preamble to the Constitution, just tell us who the match is!"

Kendall's head suddenly swiveled from Joe to Zach and her eyes widened.

_She's figured it out._ Only Kendall's distraction, Zach was sure, had prevented her from guessing much earlier.

"_Zach_," she mouthed. "_You_—?"

He shook his head and nodded toward Joe, who was saying sternly, as if speaking to a five-year-old, "Greenlee, if you do not settle down, I will ask you to leave."

"I'm sorry," she said in a small voice. "Go ahead."

Joe coughed and cleared his throat. "Excuse me. As I was saying, we hoped one of you would be a match. And, as I had planned to discuss first with Mr. Slater—"

"It's Zach!" Kendall burst out. "Oh my god, Zach's a match, isn't he? He's _the_ match!"

"Hell, no, it better not Slater!" Ryan swore. "Kendall, it's just like you to get the wrong idea—just be quiet and let Joe finish."

"_Zach_? No. It can't be Zach. It's supposed to be _me_, Greenlee moaned. "I'm a match too, aren't I, Joe? Aren't I?"

Throwing up his hands in frustration, Joe warned, "Greenlee, Ryan, it's not too late to throw you out of my office and that would be _my_ call, not Mr. Slater's."

Ryan argued, "But Joe, the implications—"

Joe raised his voice. "_If I may get a word in edgewise?_ _Thank you_. I'm very pleased to confirm that you, Mr. Slater, are a match for Miranda. You're the only match among the four of you, and you also match all seven of her genetic factors, which makes you that rarity known as a perfect match. So if you agree to be her donor, it's the best case scenario Miranda could possibly have. It greatly decreases her chances of complications, such as rejection or graft versus host disease."

Finally, silence reigned.

It was what Zach had expected to hear after Doctor Martin indicated he wished to speak with him, what he'd fervently hoped to hear, yet at the same time could hardly grasp, that providence would grant such an unworthy soul as himself the opportunity to justify his existence, without marching in and announcing there was some last-minute mistake.

_I'm the match._

He, Zach Slater, was fit to save a life as precious as Miranda's? It was laughable, no, ludicrous, but there it was written in black and white, in the lab report spread open on Joe Martin's desk. Now that Zach had heard the actual words, he realized nothing could have prepared him for the impact of them…_nothing_.

"Zach?" Kendall had come to stand before him, and then she sank into a crouch so low she was looking up into his face. "Just think, Zach—you're the one who's going to save Miranda's life."

_The only match._

"That—that's wonderful." Greenlee's voice sounded strained. "It's really wonderful that—that at least one of us has bone marrow that matches Miranda's. Isn't it, Ryan? Good—good for you, Zach."

"It's—for Miranda's sake, it's—uh, fortunate." Ryan sounded even more strained. "Con–congratulations, Slater."

"Zach, are you okay? You haven't said a word." Kendall asked for only him to hear.

_The perfect match._

Joe Martin was saying, very matter-of-factly, "Mr. Slater, this is just the beginning for you. Withdrawing bone marrow is actually much harder on the donor than receiving it is on the recipient. We need to let you know what you're in for and we also need to make sure you're as healthy as you look. I'd like you to come to our pre-op testing center here in the hospital for a physical exam. I'm scheduling it for nine o'clock tomorrow morning."

"Ryan and I will be going now," Greenlee announced suddenly. "We're going to go say good-night to Miranda and then we're going home but we'll be back in the morning to see her. Even though it's Zach who gets to be the one, I think I really will sleep better tonight."

"I think we all will, Greenlee," Joe agreed in the same matter-of-fact tone.

It was easier for Zach to breathe with the Laverys gone from the room. They seemed to use up more than their fair share of air. But it was still difficult for him to speak. When you had no words, how could you speak? He had to find some, though; Zach knew that when he looked down to see the worried look again pinching Kendall's face. But his jaw still felt frozen in place.

"Joe, I want to talk to Zach in private," Kendall said, somewhat peremptorily and without regard to the fact they were in Joe's office. Somewhat predictably, Joe shook his head.

"It's better for me talk to Mr. Slater about the procedure now, Kendall; we have a lot of information to go over in a very short amount of time. It's essential for him—for you _both, _actually—to understand all the ramifications of what he'll be consenting to, and what you'll be consenting to," Joe said kindly.

Kendall looked taken aback. "_Ramifications_? What do they have to do with anything, Joe? This is for _Miranda_! Of _course _Zach consents and if he consents, I consent!"

_How far we've come. Not so long ago she believed I killed her family and meant the same harm to Miranda_. _I believed her to be a transparently shrewish, self-centered drama queen._

Now every day seemed to expose yet another unsuspected layer of the deeply lovable, deeply caring person Zach was continually discovering Kendall to be. He'd believed the misleadingly exasperating and full-of-bravado surface she braved life through represented the most fundamental level of her character. It was one more thing he'd gotten wrong.

" Kendall, this is a two-pronged discussion. First of all, you and Mr. Slater won't be consenting to the same thing. One of you, as Miranda's equally close next of kin, must also consent on _her_ behalf to the next stage of her treatment—the chemotherapy she'll need prior to the transplant, then to the actual transplant."

"Of course we will, Joe!" she said quickly. "Why are we even wasting time _discussing_ this?

"Let me finish, Kendall," Joe said patiently. "Because of what has been your closer emotional relationship to Miranda and her mother, I feel that asking youto provide consent for Miranda's procedures is more appropriate than asking Mr. Slater to provide it. But you cannot provide consent for Mr. Slater in the matter of his own procedure. He must do that—you can't speak for him."

Telling Kendall he wanted her input on the Cambias deal wasn't the half of it, Zach was thinking. He _needed_ her input—not only on Cambias, but on everything. Because he needed _her_ and that, Zach reflected without too much regret for once, was fate's biggest—and perhaps kindest—joke on him yet. Their ostensibly practical, impersonal arrangement with its bonus of uncomplicated physical pleasure had evolved seamlessly into a very personal and anything-but-simple arrangement instead. One where it felt perfectly right and natural to say to Joe Martin, " Kendall can speak for me."

"Zach," she breathed.

"I'm afraid she can't, Mr. Slater." Joe replied tolerantly. "Let me explain what _you're_ facing. Harvesting bone marrow from a donor requires repeated punctures of the pelvic bone. The procedure isn't lengthy—it usually takes about an hour—but it is performed under general anesthesia and it requires an overnight stay in the hospital. It also requires up to several weeks' recuperation from stiffness and soreness afterwards. Only you can consent to these risks. Now, do you have any questions?"

"No," Zach said bluntly. "I consent. Give me whatever I need to sign."

"Oh, if you're anxious to sign paperwork, we'll have plenty of it for you, Mr. Slater," Joe smiled. "However, all in good time. Now, Kendall, do you have any questions? If not let's wind up this meeting and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes, I do have a question—Joe, I want to know what risks there are to Zach," she said unexpectedly.

"The biggest risk involves the general anesthesia, Kendall. The harvesting process is not particularly risky in itself, but as I mentioned the aftermath is usually quite uncomfortable to say the least."

"Well, this is 2005, not the Dark Ages. Isn't there some way you can do it so it isn't uncomfortable?" Kendall asked stubbornly. "I don't want Zach to have to be in pain."

Zach intercepted a long-suffering look from Joe Martin, wordlessly asking for assistance with the exasperating Kendall. Zach didn't need to be asked twice. For what he was truly being given, he felt both profoundly indebted and almost frighteningly exhilarated, in need of an anchor to ground him back to earth. Reaching for Kendall's hand, Zach clasped it in his. It was her left hand; he could feel his ring on her finger, and its miniature white flames blazed through the bones and sinews of his hand with a dedicated fire letting him know there was a reason he was alive.

"Kendall," he said. "You know what? I'm ready."


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter Forty **

Zach took his physical the next morning and passed it. Joe Martin subsequently scheduled his bone marrow harvesting procedure for the following afternoon, the same day Miranda's first chemotherapy session, to condition her for receipt of the transplant, was to begin. If all went well with the latter, the actual transplant was scheduled to occur two days later, after Miranda's last chemo treatment. Everything was on a tight, exacting schedule with only the narrowest of margins for stress, fatigue, or any outside duties.

"If Joe was really smart he'd just build a hotel next to the hospital," Kendall moaned, hanging over the rail of the gurney in Zach's pre-op cubicle. In the past two days Greenlee had finally cracked from the strain, coming down with some sort of stomach virus forcing her to stay away from the hospital. Ryan had stayed home with her. Kendall and Zach had doubled up their hours by Miranda's bedside, spending time at home only to shower and change and steal a few hours' sleep "I wish…no, never mind, it doesn't matter what I wish."

"Tell me anyway. Distract me," Zach said, adding, "My ass is about to be what amounts to punched full of holes, you know." Even lying on a gurney waiting to be moved into an operating room, wearing a hospital gown and with an IV line already taped to his hand ready for the anesthetic to be administered, his vitality and spirits seemed unflagging.

Kendall shuddered. "That's not funny."

"It wasn't meant to be. Merely realistic," he pointed out.

"I _hate_ this, Zach!" she declared suddenly. "I know there's no other way and I know we're lucky you're such a good match, but I'm so sick and tired of having to feel grateful for things everybody else can just take for granted."

Zach looked at her. " Kendall, just go with the 'we're lucky' part again."

"Saying it once is all I can manage."

"Be glad for that then. I am, Kendall. Very glad." After functioning on far too little sleep, Zach's voice was gravelly but its deepness only enhanced the sincerity of his words.

"I still _hate_ that you have to go through this and I _hate_ that Miranda has to go through what she's going through," Kendall said rebelliously. "God, more than anything I wish none of this was happening—which just goes to show you how much influence _I _have over anything, huh?"

"You're doing wonders for me," Zach said rather dryly.

She paused. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm so tired I don't know what the hell I'm saying."

"Then go home, Kendall," he suggested promptly.

"Zach! Have I gotten so bad you're trying to get rid of me?" she asked in a small voice.

"I was told I'll be in recovery for several hours following this. No reason for you to stick around. Go home and get some rest."

"Oh, please, you know me better than that. I am _not_ leaving!" Kendall protested strenuously again. "If something happened to you or Miranda while I was gone…."

Reasonably, Zach said, "Do you think Miranda and I wouldn't be looked after if you weren't here to see to it?"

"Exactly. Miranda is already our star patient and Mr. Slater just put himself in the running," Kendall spun around to see Joe Martin standing behind her wearing an encouraging smile to go with his words. "What we're expecting is a very successful outcome and I just came by to wish you the best, Mr. Slater."

"Thank you, Dr. Martin."

"Joe, will you be in the operating room with Zach?"

"No, but he'll be in good hands with Dr. Rowan performing the procedure. I overhead Mr. Slater's suggestion that you go home, Kendall, and I must say I concur. Unless you work here, there's no reason to log as many hours as you've been lately."

"But Joe, I haven't had much choice. You know Greenlee's been sick so I—"

The doctor continued, "Greenlee must be feeling better because I saw her up in the pediatric ICU a little while ago. Of course, she's not allowed in with Miranda, but neither would you be right now, Kendall."

"Two against one, Kendall," Zach said.

"Well, gee, don't both of you just throw me out at once," she said a little resentfully.

Glancing at his watch before leaving, Joe said, "I can't stay. One more minute, Kendall, and then follow me out, eh? The orderlies will be here presently for Mr. Slater and we like our operations to begin on time."

Kendall gazed down at Zach again. Absurdly, and all things that had occurred between them recently considered, she suddenly felt ridiculously tongue-tied. What, after all, did you say to a man who was saving your niece's life?—who was his niece, too, of course, the same niece you'd once virtually accused him of trying to destroy—the same man now about to sacrifice some of his life substance for her?—proving yet again how spectacularly flawed, to say the least, your judgment frequently was.

What if that wasn't even really what tied your tongue in its biggest knot, though? What if the biggest, most impenetrable knot formed when you looked into the eyes of that man and thought you saw something there that made you wonder how long you could possibly last, after all the losses you'd already suffered, if anything happened to him too? But when there was such a short circuit from your brain to your mouth, maybe it was best for the words to just stay trapped in your throat because how could you possibly trust them to convey to what they were supposed to without needlessly complicating the relationship you already had, that seemed to be working the way it was, with the man lying before you?

"Zach, if anything happens to you in there I'll _kill _you," Kendall murmured fiercely, unable to keep her voice from sounding choked. "I will positively, absolutely fucking kill you, so promise me you won't let anything go wrong. _Promise_."

Zach gazed back into her eyes, so close to his face, his voice softened to a rasp when he said, " Kendall. I didn't know you cared."

"Oh, you jerk." She was almost blubbering, feeling like a pathetic helpless fool. "You great—big—insufferable—jerk—"

"Ready to roll?" A bored-looking young orderly came up behind her, cutting off her shaky diatribe.

"Not yet," Zach said. Drawing Kendall's face down to his with the one hand he had available, he whispered warmly, "One for the road," before kissing her briefly.

It couldn't be much of a kiss, and then she had to stand back while they took him away, feeling worse than ever once he was gone and hating it. Now what? She was well and truly at loose ends for awhile, but Kendall was sure of one thing; she might respect his opinion but she didn't mean she took orders from Zach, and she wasn't about to leave the hospital during any of the hours that would elapse before he came out of surgery and recovery. In the meantime she decided to return to the pediatric floor to see what she could find out about Miranda. Outside the surgical waiting area she was actually glad, if surprised, to run into Greenlee. "What are you doing here?" Kendall asked.

"I was actually looking for you, Kendall. Has Zach gone under the knife yet?"

"Geez, Greenlee, I don't think I'd put it quite like that, but he's about to. They just took him into surgery."

"Good, then you have some time to talk?" Greenlee both looked and sounded quite serious.

"Time is about all I do have for a change, at the moment anyway. Say, do you know what's up with Miranda?" Kendall asked anxiously. "That's where I was headed next. I know the chemo was supposed to take several hours so I didn't expect it to be finished yet, but…."

"It's not. And they won't let me in. So I thought I'd find you instead and we could get a bite to eat in the cafeteria while we wait."

"Where's Ryan?" Kendall felt compelled to ask. "You know, your shadow. Do I have to sit across the table from his smiling face too?"

"Oh, I left Ryan at the pediatric ICU." Greenlee patted her waist. "He'll page me if need be. This little confab will be just us girls, Kendall. It's been too long since we've hung out together, don't you think?"

"Wait a minute, Greenlee. Did you just change the channel from the show I was watching during the commercial?" Kendall was beginning to feel even more discombobulated. "I mean, since when do you and I do lunch together anymore? Even more to the point, haven't you just been sick but now you want to eat in the _cafeteria_? What are you, a masochist? You'll have a frigging relapse."

"No, I only—I mean, I'll just have a cup of tea or something. I really just want to sit and talk if that's okay with you, Kendall, and it's more comfortable there than in the waiting room."

Kendall shrugged. "Oh, well, why not? As I said I do have time to kill, and even your company beats my own right now. Plus I am kind of hungry and you've got the beeper, so…might as well. Lead on."

A short time later the girls sat across from each other at a booth. Kendall picked at the remains of a wilted salad remaining from the earlier lunch rush, while Greenlee sipped a cup of tea and nibbled on some pre-packaged shortbread cookies. After claiming to want to talk, Greenlee seemed quiet to the point Kendall found herself prodding her.

"So did you actually have something to talk about, Greenlee? Or are we just going to sit here and look at each other? Because that'll sure help pass the time."

"Oh—sorry, Kendall—I was just thinking about something. Listen, we've never really had a chance to talk about you and Zach. You've never really said what made you change your mind about him practically overnight."

"I'm not going to talk about Zach with you, Greenlee," Kendall replied stiffly.

Greenlee stared at her thoughtfully. "Oh, come on, Kendall, this is _me_. And I'm curious. You would be too, if you were me, especially if I spent all my time hating on the guy and then turned around and flashed a rock that would put Mrs. Donald Trump's to shame."

"You stopped being _you_, Greenlee, when you and Ryan turned into a baby-snatching gang. That means the chances of me confiding in you about anything least of all Zach are zip," Kendall retorted. "And that reminds me—if we talk about Miranda it also will get ugly, so maybe we'd better just go back upstairs now."

Greenlee started to extend a hand, then seemed to think better of it and withdrew. "No, wait, Kendall. Tell me about Zach. Remember, I never hated him the way you and Ryan did, so I'd really like to know what you see in him now. Beyond the obvious, that is."

"The _obvious_?" Kendall repeated mulishly. "Maybe Zach sees something in me, did you ever think of that, Greenlee?"

Raising her eyebrows, Greenlee replied, "From _every_thing I ever saw of you and Zach whenever you were together, until—what was it now? Just last week?—he thought you were just as big a royal a pain in the ass as you thought he was. If not bigger. So you tell me, Kendall."

"Things can change very quickly, Greenlee. Shouldn't you know that already? Look at you and Ryan, true love overnight as the violins played and the cymbals crashed. And no, I'm not bitter. I'm _grateful_ you wound up with Ryan and I wound up with Zach."

"But Ethan came in between Ryan and Zach," Greenlee began, "and I thought you and he—"

"Ethan is dead," Kendall said uncompromisingly. "Not only dead as in his ashes are rattling around in a tin can, but dead as in 'dead to me.' I was over Ethan before I got engaged to Zach. That is all you need to know."

Greenlee made a show of shivering. "Cold, Kendall. Very cold. Okay, not to speak ill of the dead but I always thought you deserved better than Ethan. He was still a boy and you deserved a man. But you know what they say—like father, like son, so I can't help being curious why you think his father is an improvement."

Kendall traced one of the boomerang patterns printed on the Formica surface of the table. "Yeah, well, Zach is no more like Ethan than I'm like my father. The rest is none of your business anymore."

"It could be my business more than you realize, Kendall. I said I was curious. I didn't say my curiosity was just idle," Greenlee said rather mysteriously.

"That's good, because I've already had my fill of idle curiosity, thank you very much. So before you join the rest of the Pine Valley chorus and start singing what you think _Erica's_ reaction would be…I have just three more words to say: _Don't. Go. There_." Kendall's voice trailed off.

"I'm really not challenging you to defend you and Zach," Greenlee insisted. "If you honestly want to marry the guy, Kendall—well, I'm sure there are some big compensations and I don't just mean that Rock of Gibraltar-sized diamond, but don't expect me not to be able to figure out as well as you that by marrying Zach you marry Miranda's _uncle _Zach."

Frowning, Kendall said, "I told you not to bring up Miranda, Greenlee. In fact, maybe we shouldn't be talking like this at all, since we'll be sitting on opposite sides of a courtroom before long."

Greenlee sighed. " Kendall…you know, I was thinking…maybe that won't be necessary after all. Also, maybe, just maybe, if there's any chance you did hook up with Zach to put something over on me—and I'm not saying you did—well, maybe you don't need to stay hooked up."

"And just why not, Greenlee?" Kendall demanded. "Are you trying to say you have such a shut-and-dried case for getting custody of Miranda away from me that I shouldn't even bother trying to fight you? Because I don't think—"

"No, Kendall, that's not what I'm saying at all and if you'll just shut up and let me finish I'll explain. I was trying to sound you out and I guess I didn't do a very good job of it, to see where you stand with Zach and everything, and to see if you still…well, if you still want custody of Miranda and I guess you do and that's good because I—I…." Greenlee chose that moment to hesitate.

Almost lunging across the table at her, Kendall gasped, "What the hell are you getting at, Greenlee?"

A beatific expression relaxed Greenlee's already appealing features into an almost self-consciously Madonna-like mask of serenity. "I—no, I mean _we_, that is, Ryan and I— Kendall, we're _pregnant_!" Greenlee leaned across the table. "We're going to have a baby of our own. Isn't that wonderful, Kendall?"

"_What_?" Kendall asked in shock. "Greenlee, you're _pregnant_?"

"Yes," the other girl beamed ecstatically. "And I've learned that taking care of little ones is very satisfying but it's also very labor-intensive so I don't just think I'll be able to devote enough attention to a toddler like Miranda, especially with all the follow-up care she's going to need, once I have a newborn of our own."

There was nothing Kendall could do but stare at her for a few moments. _If that isn't quintessential Greenlee, _she thought cynically,despite the genuine joy radiating from the expectant mother. _Out with the old—in with the new. Now she's got one of her own on the way—it's bye, bye, cousin Miranda, Auntie Kendall can have you after all. _

Brightly, Greenlee asked, "Aren't you going to congratulate me, Kendall? I just found out two days ago and I've been bursting to tell you! I was afraid you'd figure it out from my morning sickness."

Swallowing hard, Kendall said, "It's the funniest thing, Greenlee, but with everything else we have going on, the thought never even crossed my mind. But of course…congratulations." _And I don't care if that sounds grudging, after all _she's_ put _me_ though. _

"I know, but that makes this the absolute best time for this to happen! A new baby," Greenlee said softly. She patted her ridiculously flat abdomen proudly. "If it's a boy it's Jackson Ryan and if it's a girl it's Bianca Erica."

"Damn you, Greenlee. Damn you to hell. You always make me cry," Kendall found herself sniffing.

"Hey, you're going to have to watch your language from now on," Greenlee scolded.


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter Forty-One**

Kendall leaned back in one of the comfortable recliners provided for visitors in Zach's private, upscale hospital room and tried futilely to calm her racing mind. In contrast to her agitation, although the final effects of anesthesia were slowly fading from his system, Zach was still groggy—and Kendall almost envied him. She wasn't sorry he was incommunicado. The longer, the better: She still hadn't a clue what to say to him when he came to, even more so now than before he went into surgery. Greenlee had given her what should have been such good news. It _was_ good news, really, for both Greenlee and herself and, by extension, Zach.

So, how to break it to him?

_Guess what, Zach? The custody battle is over even before it began! Just like in the movies! Greenlee's having her own baby. That means a happy ending for everyone. She's getting her own kid so she's letting me have Miranda. And _that_ means J.R. is screwed and that you don't have to marry me. Isn't that just great? _

No, she couldn't pull that one off. Try again….

_Zach, I just got the biggest surprise! Turns out Greenlee's pregnant and—even _bigger_ surprise!—she's already lost interest in raising somebody else's kid alongside her own perfect little miniature Greenlee or Ryan in that designer nursery of hers. Especially a kid with medical problems. Miranda automatically defaults to Auntie Kendall, who doesn't need a pretend husband to make her respectable anymore. You and I can go ahead and shitcan our engagement now._

Nor that either…then how about this? _There's good news and bad news, Zach._ _The good news: Greenlee's dropping the custody battle for Miranda. It's interfering with her _morning sickness_. Morning sickness, Zach! She's pregnant with her _own_ kid! The bad news is…well, there really isn't any bad news, I'm afraid. I'm getting what I wanted, I don't have to go to court, J.R. is out of the picture, and as for you…you don't have to marry me. But we can work out a generous visitation schedule for you and Miranda. Don't worry, you can see her whenever you want. _

_Fuck_, Kendall swore. _How can I do this to Zach? Cut him loose while he's recovering from surgery, after all that he's done for both Miranda and me?_

That wasn't the only reason for her turmoil, though. Not by a long shot.

_It's not even so much that I can't do it to _him_—it wasn't _his_ idea to get married—he was only doing the decent thing and going along with me. We both knew it was only for show. But still, he _was_ just so…decent about it. So it's more like—like how can I do this to _me_? I _like_ being engaged to Zach. I like us being aligned. Okay, I more than like it. It just doesn't feel like it's for show anymore. Am I being delusional?_

She must be crazy. Since when did make-believe turn into a reality show? But the admission still had to be made, the truth had to be faced; the realization hadn't exactly come to Kendall out of the blue. It had been there almost from the start, in the hotel room in Virginia, easy to put aside, until put it to the test. You could ignore reality up to that point. Now… the reality was poking through what she'd presented as a sham, and the sham was crumbling. The great goddess Greenlee had spoken…again.

The custody battle no longer loomed. Kendall no longer needed the sanctity of marriage to cover up her sins, no longer needed the pretense of that highly touted and exaggerated stability to please the court, no longer needed a marital partner whose blood tie to Miranda was as undeniably strong as her own…now even _stronger_, an honest little voice inside Kendall's head said, to fortify her claim to her motherless niece. Miranda was close to being hers now without all that, a semi-miracle wrought while Zach slept unawares…. Yes, just how great was that?

Zach was stirring now, more noticeably. Kendall slammed down the footrest of her recliner with unnecessary force, stood up, and walked over to the bed, which she had avoided initially so as not to disturb him. Most likely only her overdramatic imagination colored his face with such heart-clenching post-op pallor, not its proximity to the bleached sheets beneath the artificial light, so that his hazel eyes, though behind lids still half-closed, seemed unnaturally deep and bright.

"Well, hello, sexy," she said in a low voice. "I was getting bored. About time you stopped playing possum."

Zach merely closed his eyes and groaned.

"Oh geez, Zach, I'm sorry!" Kendall immediately felt contrite about teasing him but it had seemed the safer approach. "Does it hurt very much?"

"No." His voice was raspy. "Mir—Miranda?"

"She's okay, Zach," she assured him quickly. "They're keeping a really close eye on her. They're always doing _something_ to her whenever I try to go in to see her now, you know. So I'm pretty much staying out of the way."

His eyes opened a little wider. One of his eyebrows appeared to rise. "Annoying me instead."

"Whose fault is that? I mean, you are so…so annoyable sometimes." She went back to teasing. Again…it was safer.

"'Annoyable'…is not a word, Kendall."

"No? I hear it's already been printed under the picture of your backside they have hanging up at the nurses' station. That's how impressed they were with it."

Zach's eyes closed, but his lips curved slightly. "Really. The word…or the backside?"

"What do you think?" she asked saucily. "A picture's worth a thousand words. Oh, Zach…."

"What? Are you hiding something?"

Damn, he was too alert already. Kendall needed to turn her head to hide the sneaky tears suddenly springing to her eyes, and stifle an insistent yawn. "It's just been a long day."

"And you never went home. Did you?"

"Hell, no. No way was I going to leave until it was over and I knew you were okay." The latter words escaped on their own; Kendall couldn't hide her feelings of relief.

"Over for me," Zach said slowly. "Not for Miranda."

"She's come so far—we've got to believe when she gets your bone marrow she'll be cured. She'll come the rest of the way because of you." Kendall took a deep breath. _Now or never_, she thought. "And when Miranda is healthy again, when this is all behind us…Zach, I had lunch with Greenlee today—"

Just then a young nurse advanced into the room, interrupting Kendall mid-speech and drawing Zach's attention away from her. The nurse went about connecting his IV line to a pain-control medication pump, carefully demonstrating how to use it, a demonstration which Kendall followed closely. "Mr. Slater, press this button here to get a dose of painkiller whenever you feel you need one after the local starts to wear off. Let's see, your operation was how many hours ago? Three?"

"No, four," Kendall put in authoritatively, answering for Zach. "When will he start feeling it?"

"All right, then his local won't last much longer, Mrs. Slater."

"Do I really need that?" Zach asked doubtfully.

"Believe me, Mr. Slater, after the procedure you had you'll be glad to have this little pump handy," the nurse replied, patting it with a cheeriness Kendall mistrusted. "We've never had any complaints."

Suspiciously, Kendall asked, "What kind of drug _is_ in that thing?"

The nurse replied more matter-of-factly, "It's a morphine drip."

"Morphine?" Kendall repeated, the word conjuring up frightening images of hollow-eyed drug abusers. "_Morphine_? You still _give_ patients that? Isn't morphine addicting? There must be something safer you can give him!"

Both the nurse and Zach looked at Kendall in surprise. "Mrs. Slater, morphine's an effective painkiller and an overnight stay isn't long enough for anyone to get addicted. Besides, the pump is set so your husband can't self-administer over a certain level per hour," the nurse explained.

"But—"

Zach cleared his throat and Kendall caught his eye. "Someone's trying to remind me that _you're_ the medical professional," she muttered to the nurse. "Sorry."

"We often hear that concern, Mrs. Slater. But it's perfectly safe or we wouldn't use it," the nurse said patiently. "Now, another nurse will be in shortly to take your vitals, Mr. Slater. If you experience any problems before then, let her know, or use the call button by your bed to notify one of us."

"Joe told me I was spending too much time at the hospital and I guess he was right," Kendall admitted once the nurse was gone. "I'm becoming as obnoxious as Greenlee. Oh, and speaking of—"

"She called you Mrs. Slater, Kendall," Zach interrupted.

"Er…I know. It didn't seem worth the effort to set her straight since you won't be here that long, Zach. And it won't hurt to let her think you have a wife running interference for you while you are here, either," Kendall added defensively.

An amused expression curved Zach's lips into a real smile even as he winced. "Do you think I can't run my own?"

"Of course not!" she burst out. "Look at you. You're already eyeing that drug pump machine. Zach! You _are_ hurting, aren't you? Just admit it."

"Hmm…a little," he finally said tersely.

"Wow, we're making progress, Zach. Admitting _that_ probably hurt big, bad, macho you more than a dozen holes drilled over your impressive butt in the first place." Kendall tried teasing again. But his admission of pain hurt her, too, more than she could have ever believed possible, and she sought refuge in more flippancy.

"Kendall, your bedside manner…."

"What? Stinks? Too bad. You're stuck with it."

He managed another very brief smile. "I wouldn't change a thing." When she was silent Zach asked, "Make you blush?"

Ignominiously, she _was_ blushing. Just how far gone _was_ she, when an innocent remark from a man emerging from general anesthesia instantly brought to mind her last session in bed with him? "It's just…kind of warm in here. Maybe they need to turn the heat down. Look, Zach, do you want to try a dose of the morphine now? Here, I'll push the button for you. Say when."

"Kendall, wait. Before it kicks in—"

"There you go, Zach. Remember, the nurse said you can't overdo it so—"

Entirely unexpectedly, he said, "We should have carved out time to marry before this."

Kendall sucked in her breath. "How? There's hardly been time to breathe in the past week. Besides, Miranda—"

"Can spare us half a day."

"Zach…what's brought this on?" she asked somewhat nervously. "There was no question before of us waiting until Miranda was on the mend."

He paused. "_This_. Surgery went without incident. But if it hadn't, you'd be unprotected."

"But you're okay, Zach! You're okay, thank god, so I'll be fine. In fact—"

"You can never be sure of that, Kendall."

She smiled down at him, genuinely earnest. "Don't _worry_—it's not like you, Zach. Come on, just concentrate on getting better now, and think of Miranda healing too."

"We can't take another chance," he insisted. "When I'm released tomorrow—let's go back to Virginia. Let's make this legal."

_Quit stalling. Tell him that's unnecessary now. Tell him about Greenlee, before there's another interruption or you loose your nerve_, Kendall's conscience nudged. But forming the words to decline Zach's suggestion, a suggestion he deserved to know she now had no need or right to accept, was so difficult. Because whether or not she had the need or the right to accept, she had the unreasonable, uninvited, and unholy desire to marry him anyway. Still, she opened her mouth.

"Kendall, honey, if you don't take this gallant gentlemen up on that tempting offer, I may have to volunteer myself as a substitute!"

"Myrtle!" Kendall cried as the older woman entered the room. "What are you doing here?"

"Why, honey, I just dropped by the hospital to see if I could catch you for an update on Miranda. Joe helped me track you down here and of course I wanted to give Zach my regards if he was up to a visit." Myrtle sounded a little hurt at Kendall's unintentionally less than enthusiastic reception.

"Myrtle," Zach said from the bed. "It's good to see you." Kendall stood back as Myrtle leaned over and gave him a lip-smacking kiss on the cheek.

"Not as good as it is to see you. It's a wonderful thing you did for Miranda, Zach honey." Myrtle sounded almost tearful. "I won't stay long, Kendall. I just wanted to see for myself how Zach were doing."

"Tired, that's all," Zach said a bit wearily.

Kendall put in, "He's on a morphine drip, Myrtle. I think it's starting to knock him out."

"Plenty of rest is what the poor man needs right now, Kendall. From the sound of things I walked in on, he'll need his strength tomorrow. I love a good elopement," Myrtle all but winked.

"Zach is too out of it to realize what he's saying," Kendall began. "The only place he's traveling tomorrow is home."

"Hear how she underestimates me, Myrtle," Zach said, unfairly.

"I do not, Zach." Kendall momentarily forgot Myrtle was there and that the reason for their marriage was now moot. "You've overestimating yourself. You're only a few hours removed from surgery. One of us has to be realistic."

"That would be me, Kendall." Zach's voice regained some of its power.

"Oh, you two!" Myrtle broke in indulgently. "Wait until you're married to start squabbling like an old married couple. I see no sense in putting the kibosh on Zach's plan until you see how he feels in the morning."

Kendall decided to back down in this battle she was currently losing. Zach's condition in the morning wouldn't affect the situation at that time any more than it did now, but only she knew that. "No fair! I'm outnumbered. Okay, we'll leave it until then. But don't forget"—she glanced at Zach—"it works both ways. If you feel like crap in the morning, then I put the kibosh on it." _And if you don't feel like crap, I still put the kibosh on it_, she thought sadly.

"Fair enough," he conceded.

"Kendall honey, why don't you and I go get a bite to eat, and let Zach start resting up for the big day tomorrow? If I know you, I'll bet you're just starving."

"Myrtle, will you see to it that Kendall goes _home_?" Zach asked unfairly, before Kendall could respond to the older woman. "She's been hanging around here all day without a break."

"Well, of course I will! Come on home with me, Kendall honey? You look as worn out as your man over there. I made a kettle of chicken soup this morning. I'll stir up some dumplings and you'll be good as new."

"_Dumplings_?" Kendall asked faintly. "Sounds delicious, Myrtle, but I—I don't really do dumplings. I'd rather stay here even if Zach wants to get rid of me."

"Nonsense, Kendall," Myrtle chuckled. "Zach means it for your own good and you're coming with me. I won't take no for an answer."

Hearing the faintest laugh coming from Zach, too, Kendall turned to glare at him for siding with Myrtle for the second time during Myrtle's visit. "Myrtle's serving up dumplings and I feel like chopped liver," she muttered.

"Humor me," he said softly.

"But I need to talk to you, Zach, alone. It won't take long, and—"

Suddenly another voice was added to the mix. A new nurse entered the room. In the ensuing introductions, explanations, and instructions, Kendall found herself expertly maneuvered out into the corridor. She had opportunity to do little more than say a quick, unsatisfactory goodnight to Zach before being whisked away by Myrtle. Victorious Myrtle was clearly delighted at carrying out this one of Zach's wishes.

_Why keep fighting it?_ Kendall asked herself in resignation. She'd tried to do the right thing, tried to bring up Greenlee's change of heart with Zach; was it her fault alone that fate kept intervening to stymie every attempt? The various arrivals of nurses and Myrtle, Zach's distracting changes of subject—all conspired against her in the matter.

Defensively, Kendall glanced down at her beautiful, sparkling, ring._ So I'll have one more night of being engaged to Zach. One more night of wearing all these rocks. How can that hurt? It's not as if we aren't _already_ engaged under false pretenses. This just adds another layer. I'll tell him as soon as I can._

But in addition to that exigency weighing on her heart and mind, here she was going home with poor deluded Myrtle, determined to treat her and Zach as the unlikely heroine and hero of an improbable romance novel. As much as she loved Myrtle, this was going to be as long an evening as it had been a day..


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter Forty-Two**

"Knock–knock. May I come in?" Livia Cudahy asked from the open doorway of Zach's hospital room the next morning.

"Of course." Sitting up in bed, Zach motioned with alacrity for her to enter. "Come in and sit down if you have the time." He could tell, from her air of suppressed energy, that she had come by for the express purpose of telling him something, but he determined to let her tell him in her own good time.

The attorney came in and took a chair, and Zach pushed his half-finished breakfast tray away from his lap. She frowned at him. "Don't not finish your breakfast on my account, Zach. I'm sure you need it. Oh, and by the way—this is known as nagging, something you'll be experiencing soon, I hear. Congratulations on your upcoming marriage."

"Thank you, Livia," Zach smiled briefly. "Yes, Kendall and I plan to tie the knot as soon as I get out of here."

She blinked. "Well—one of you is a fast worker! And knowing both of you, I'm not going to lay odds on which one of you it is. I'll just play it safe and wish you both the best. You must be in a big hurry if you're going straight from your sick bed. How are you feeling?""

Ignoring the question, Zach said, "Thank you again. I meant to contact you to discuss another matter that arose two days ago, which other events"—he nodded vaguely around the hospital room—"have precluded bringing up."

Livia looked curious. "Oh? Care to give me a clue what that might be, Zach? I have a few minutes before the hospital board sends out a search party for me."

"Seems I'm Ethan's sole heir, since he didn't leave a will," Zach replied slowly. "The Cambias board has stepped forward to offer me Ethan's former position as CEO."

She gave a low, ladylike whistle. "Whoa. That's certainly something your lowly attorney needs to know. What did you tell them—or have you?"

"Nothing, Livia, until I can discuss it at length yet with Kendall. Regardless of my decision, however, as my attorney I'd like you to be in on it."

Livia nodded briskly. "Well, of course. I imagine the Cambias board is quite impatient for your answer, too, so keep me informed. And now before I take my leave I have a piece of news for you, Zach—good news, I hasten to add."

"Have you?" Zach asked noncommittally, waiting to hear the reason for Livia's visit.

"My, what a cool customer you are," Livia said smoothly. "All right, this is hot off the presses—I just got the word from their attorney as I was leaving my office a little while ago and haven't even had a chance to tell Kendall—but it concerns you equally, Zach. The Laverys are dropping the motion they filed for custody of Miranda."

Very little fazed Zach, but this piece of information nearly did the trick. He leaned forward intently, wanting to make sure he'd understood her correctly. "What did you say, Livia?"

Gesturing with her hands, Livia replied, "You heard me. Ryan and Greenlee have backed off their custody suit. That removes the only real obstacle to you and Kendall obtaining formal custody of Miranda. So just say the word and I'll start the ball rolling again."

"They dropped it just like that?"

"Apparently. This was the first I'd heard about it."

"Any idea why they backed off?" Zach persevered.

"No, not an inkling," Livia shrugged. "There wasn't time to go into reasons."

"It seems a rather abrupt thing for them to do, don't you think?"

"Zach, when you've been in this business as long as I have, nothing fazes you. I will try my best to get back to you later today on it. In the meantime perhaps you'll find out for yourself. Perhaps I should have waited until I had more details to break the news, but I honestly thought it would perk you up."

"Livia…I'm sure you agree that any unforeseen change to the status quo calls for some investigation," Zach said.

"Well, yes, normally—but let me explain something, Zach. Typically, we lawyers only lie to each other when we're trying to get or keep something for our clients—_not_ when we're trying to give it away. At any rate, I must be going to my meeting. So do take care, and I will be in touch." Livia stood and touched him on the arm.

Zach looked up at her. "I appreciate your patience with me, Livia."

She laughed. "Oh, caution is a good thing, Zach—except when you're getting married, eh? Which reminds me, why don't I put in a call to Kendall, my _other _client, when I get back to the office. I'd like to hear somebody squeal with joy over this," the attorney added pointedly, with a question mark in her voice.

Placing his hand over her wrist on his arm, Zach said, "Don't do that, Livia. I'll tell Kendall."

Livia looked a little disappointed. "Zach, you k now you're really stealing all my fun this morning. Very well, if you insist. It's great news for the two of you to get married on. And if I don't see Kendall before she becomes Mrs. Slater, I'll count on you to give the bride an extra kiss from me." Leaning over him, she placed her lips to his cheek. "Here's one for you."

Once his lawyer was gone, Zach remained motionless, staring into space, absorbing what Livia had just told him and turning it over in his mind. On its surface, she had given him very good news indeed. Miranda had no doubt been in good hands with the Laverys, but in Zach's opinion, an opinion he'd been willing to marry Kendall in order to realize, she belonged in Kendall's hands.

Now, for whatever reason, Kendall no longer faced the uphill court battle against her sometimes closest friend in order to assert her right to her niece—the battle in which Kendall's often disreputable history might have annihilated her. For despite the way Livia had framed the announcement—and unbeknownst to her—the fight had always been Kendall's much more than Zach's. He'd considered himself only a support player, though he and Kendall were both girded for the battle. Now armistice had arrived without a single shot being fired.

_Kendall's won_, Zach thought, feeling a strange restlessness with the words' reverberation through him. _Kendall victorious._

Livia Cudahy had noted his distinct lack of enthusiasm. Fortunately she'd interpreted it as caution. For how could Livia have suspected the truth—that with no real impediment to Kendall's custody of Miranda, the basis for Kendall's marriage to him had evaporated too? And in a way Zach didn't even attempt to deny to himself, any more than he could pretend otherwise to Livia, the Laverys' change of heart had thrown him for a complete loop. It meant he was no longer indispensable to Kendall. But somehow Kendall was indispensable to him. In all her capricious, beguiling, exasperating, loyal, tactless, compassionate, unique glory.

Love wasn't a word or even a concept whose admission came easily to Zach's lips; his very psyche instinctually eschewed using or acknowledging it, unless toward an object as harmless as Miranda. Kendall was anything but harmless, she was potentially dangerous. So vital, so unpredictably stimulating, so utterly, achingly, incandescently alive she could singe you simply by looking at you. If you crossed her, or someone she loved, she singed you like a blowtorch. But she could soothe your pain with the therapeutic warmth of her look, her voice, her touch…of her regret too.

Haltingly arising from the bed, Zach looked longingly at the morphine pump. He'd been disconnected from it before breakfast, and he missed it already. His backside ached abominably and if Kendall were here she'd tease him about his sore ass, because healing came in different forms. It could distract you from your pain long enough to make you feel fine. It could deflect the venom from your dwindling flank of demons back on their own scaly hides. Most of all it could shake your conviction that you no longer knew how to love. That made Kendall dangerous indeed.

_I was no match for _her, Zach thought.

Whatever word he called it by…her affect on him was the same as any woman's on the man deep in love with her. The reality struck him full in the face, raising bruises that would show if he ignored them. Agreeing to marry Kendall was quixotic but necessary. Falling in love was not part of the deal. But what was the old saying? No good deed went unpunished. So there you were…and there he was, at a significant crossroads, perhaps.

For the first time in a very long time, isolation did not feel to Zach like his natural condition. Kendall's vivid spirit had wheedled its way past his bodily and emotional armor, compelling his secreted soul to emerge and enjoy tasting freedom once more…it was that which was addicting, not the morphine.

Getting dressed was a trying process. Zach took it slow and easy. After all, as he had once advised Kendall…save your strength for the fight you can win, and this was a fight he _intended_ to win. He was almost finished dressing, just sliding his feet into his suede slip-ons, when another visitor knocked at the door.

"Zach honey? Are you still in there, and are you decent?"

"Yes to the first question only, Myrtle," he called. "Come in."

Bustling in, Myrtle's face crumpled in feigned disappointment when she saw that Zach was fully clothed. "Now, Zach, where I come from, 'decent' means got your clothes on."

Zach laughed. "Sorry to disappoint. I took it by the other definition. Don't tell me an upstanding member of the community such as you meant it any other way."

Myrtle let out a roar of laughter. "Oh, Zach. The only thing upstanding about me is my hair and that's because of all the shellac they put on it at the Glamorama yesterday. But it is good to see you up and dressed. How was your night?"

"I survived," he replied briefly.

"Good. Then let's not beat around the bush, shall we? I took Kendall home with me and brought her back this morning. She's checking on Miranda now. Before she comes down here, I have something to ask and I expect a straight answer."

One of Zach's eyebrows arched. "That sounds ominous. Haven't I always been straight with you, Myrtle?"

"I thought you had, Zach. But…look, don't you take that tone with me," she scolded affectionately. "I wasn't born yesterday nor even the day before yesterday. Now, I'm as big a romantic fool as the next woman, but I'm not a pushover either. It was to me Kendall came when she found out Greenlee was trying to grab Miranda legally, remember. And _you_ were there too. The very next day—you and Kendall ran off to get married."

"And your question?"

"Kendall's a wonderful girl, and I've always liked you, Zach. I'm all in favor of you two getting married and providing a good home for that precious child. If you can do that, I'll go along with it and not care why you're doing it. _But_…."

Knowing she was waiting for it, Zach repeated, "But?"

"_But_ no matter what you tell the rest of the world," she finished, "I would like not to have the wool pulled over my eyes. I would like to know if it's on the up and up."

Zach was silent. At last he said, "You didn't ask Kendall this?"

Pinning him with an unusually stern gaze, Myrtle replied, "No. She was very quiet last night, very subdued. Not acting at all like a virgin on the verge, if you know what I mean, a girl on the eve of her wedding, and wipe that smirk off your face."

"Because she thinks—you'll pardon the expression, I'm sure—I'm not up to it so soon after my surgery." Zach's mind was racing a thousand miles a minute. He had ascribed Kendall's hesitation about marrying him today to that, but was there more to it? His condition certainly wasn't that dire to cause her distress.

"I hope that's all it is, Zach honey. But before you go running off with her, I want you to make darn sure you and Kendall are of like minds."

"We are of like minds about this, Myrtle." At least he'd thought they were, until a sudden recollection from the previous night came into his mind, of Kendall wanting to talk to him. Myrtle had left with her before she could, but was it possible Kendall had had the same news for him as Livia? Zach answered his own question: Not only possible but likely, given Kendall's proximity to Greenlee.

"I know you've heard this before but her grandmother was my dearest friend and I thought the world of her mother." Myrtle paused for one of her sniffles. "Kendall's as dear to me as my own and I want her marriage to be a happy one."

Zach chose his words with even more care than usual. "Kendall is dear to me as well, Myrtle. If I marry her, it's because I want to and for no other reason. I will do my best to make her—and Miranda, if she's included—happy."

"'If" you marry her, Zach?"

"Myrtle, I can't speak for Kendall. Should she have changed her mind then there will be no marriage. I can only tell you nothing would make me change mine."

"Kendall's a lucky girl, Zach Slater," Myrtle said resoundingly.

It wasn't always true that eavesdroppers never heard anything good of themselves, Kendall thought, listening outside by the cracked open door. At first she'd had to restrain herself from barging in and shaking Myrtle for being such a blabbermouth—but the longer Kendall listened, the less she wanted to commit violence, and the more bewildered she became.

She'd spent the previous evening wrestling with her conscience over whether to share with Zach the truth about Miranda's custody—or marry him in haste first, and probably repent in leisure afterward, when he learned she'd withheld such crucial information. Since she couldn't win either way, she'd decided it was best to be honest. Besides, she didn't think she could ever look Zach in the face again otherwise.

But now…. _Is Zach saying he wants to marry me even if Miranda _isn't_ in the picture? I couldn't be that lucky. He's just covering for us and humoring Myrtle because he still doesn't know the truth. He's got to be._

"If Kendall marries me I'll be the lucky one," Zach was saying. "Why is she taking so long? Maybe I should go up to Miranda's room and see if there's a problem."

His footsteps approached the door more quickly than Kendall would have expected, and when he yanked it back without warning she knew how a deer caught in the headlights felt. "Er…hello, Zach! Gee, what good timing, huh?" she gulped.

He stared down at her with one of his patented unreadable expressions. Kendall was afraid it meant he could see right through her, could detect from the guilt etched on her caught-in-the-act face that she'd been standing there listening to him and Myrtle discussing her. "I can't believe you're already dressed," she continued conversationally, making an effort. "How are you feeling?"

At the same time, from behind Zach, Myrtle said, "Why, there you are, Kendall. Come on in, honey. Zach was getting anxious about you."

Kendall turned to Myrtle. "I'm sorry I took so long, Myrtle, but they let me go in and see Miranda before they started getting her ready for her second chemo treatment today."

"How is Miranda?" Zach asked. "Give me an update."

"Oh, they said she's doing great!" Kendall said happily, momentarily forgetting her discomfiture. "Miranda's still on schedule for the transplant after they do the final chemo treatment tomorrow."

"Kendall, honey, that's such wonderful news. But I suspect this gentleman here is getting mighty sick and tired of looking at hospital walls. I seem to remember you and he had something else big planned for the day, so why don't I leave you two to get on with it." Gingerly giving Zach a hug goodbye, and stopping again to give Kendall a tighter one, Myrtle made for the door.

With a voice that didn't even seem to belong to her, Kendall asked Zach for a second time, "How are you feeling?"

He took a step closer to her. "I feel like getting married. How about you?"


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter Forty-Three**

"_Ahem_. Excuse me for interrupting." Behind them the nurse from the night before entered the room, holding a folder. "You're officially good to go, Mr. Slater. Doctor Rowan gave you your going-home instructions earlier, I have a written copy here for you and your doctor's prescription for a painkiller, you've signed the release and insurance forms so all your paperwork is in order, and a hospital volunteer is on the way with a wheelchair. If Mrs., er, Slater, would like to drive your car around to the side exit, that's where you'll be delivered."

Smiling at the nurse, Zach draped his arm around Kendall's shoulders. "My wife and I plan to celebrate my release by going away and renewing our vows."

The nurse's eyes lit up as she handed Zach his copies of everything. "Well, if it was me I'd want to go someplace warm and tropical where I could celebrate _and_ recuperate from surgery, like Hawaii or a Caribbean island."

"I think we will save that for later," Zach mused. "Not too much later, but right now it's the vows that count."

"I—I'll go get the car, _honey_," Kendall swallowed, ducking out from under Zach's arm and heading for the exit, followed by a cloud of confusion.

What was going _on_ with Zach? It wasn't like him to be so—so unnecessarily obvious. Not that she would have objected if his performance was for real: Under the nurse's admiring gaze, she would have rubbed up against Zach like a pampered feline both marking her territory and signaling her pleasure at his attentions. But since, in the not too distant future, Kendall expected to resemble more a stray kitten looking for a new home, Zach's behavior only served to reinforce the magnitude of what she was going to be giving up.

Trying not to think about it while she focused instead on mastering the controls in the unfamiliar cockpit of Zach's huge Range Rover, Kendall drove around to the specified hospital exit to find Zach impatiently waiting for her, seated in a wheelchair in which he looked most uncomfortable. The elderly male volunteer behind him tried vainly to assist him, but Zach smoothly levered himself into the passenger seat and buckled himself in, wincing only negligibly. His wincing made Kendall wince much more.

"Where to now, Zach?" she asked, edging carefully away from the curb. "If you ask me we should go straight to the pharmacy and get your prescription filled."

"I think that would probably be a good idea," he admitted. "It's not a short drive to Virginia."

Kendall slumped in her seat. "Oh, Zach, I wish…."

"What do you wish, Kendall?" he asked softly.

"I wish we could. But you can't be serious about going today, and even if you were, I…well, I…look, let's not talk about it now."

"Name me a better time."

"Just not now. I'm not used to driving your luxury liner, Zach. I need to concentrate on what I'm doing here."

"Use your hands to steer and your right foot to go or stop. Beyond that the beast drives itself."

"Oh, you're a big help. I meant I'm not used to sitting so high above other traffic."

"You just drove past the pharmacy," he replied obligingly.

"_Shit_," Kendall swore. "Zach, you're distracting me. Why don't I take you home and come back for your prescription so you don't have to wait on it."

"Don't waste the time, Kendall, Just circle around the block. If there's a wait we can grab a cup of coffee and talk. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"_What?_" Kendall almost drove the SUV up and over the curb. Zach reached over her with one arm, grabbed the wheel, and straightened it out without comment. Instead of thanking him, she challenged, "What makes you think I wanted to talk about anything?"

"You did," he reminded her. "That's what you said last night, before you left my room."

She frowned. "Oh. That's right. I guess I did, didn't I? Right before you practically had Myrtle drag me kicking and screaming out of there."

Zach's hand moved from the steering wheel to her knee, which it squeezed briefly before leaving. "You are stalling so hard I'm impressed you've got the car moving at all."

"Zach, I…." Again Kendall ran out of words, finally settling for, "Please just let me drive." But she had circled the block, they were adjacent to the pharmacy again, and Zach was pointing her to a parking space conveniently being vacated right in front. She pulled into it with a frustrated lurch. When Zach inhaled painfully she realized with chagrin the bumpy landing had been rough on him. "I'm sorry. I'm a bitch. I do need to tell you something. I just can't seem to bring myself to do it."

They sat there silently for a few moments. When Kendall stole a glance at Zach, he appeared to be deep in thought, the exact opposite of herself, whose mind couldn't seem to settle on any one thought at all for more than a second.

"Hand me your prescription, Zach. I'll take it in so you don't have to get out."

"I'll come with you," he announced. "Maybe you don't, but I need coffee after the swill served by the hospital. Don't talk if you'd rather not. No pressure. I just want to be with you."

"Me too." Kendall smiled at the unexpected sweetness of Zach's statement, but found it hard to look too closely at him, knowing he wouldn't have much reason to be with her before long.

The prescription was dropped off; then the two of them strolled slowly up the street to a small coffee shop where the main clientele seemed to be retirees. They took a booth in the back and Zach ordered black coffee, omelet, and whole wheat toast, saying that the hospital food had been swill too, and he was starving. Kendall ordered a blueberry muffin and a glass of orange juice, mostly to keep Zach silent company while he ate. Food would probably only get stuck in her throat if she tried to eat, stuck just as her words seemed to be. She enjoyed watching Zach eat, though; the two of them together having a simple meal in the unpretentious little restaurant was one of the few relatively ordinary outings they could actually lay claim to. It felt like the calm before her own little storm.

Kendall wasn't prepared for it when Zach laid down his fork, cocked his head, and asked, "How long should I expect the silent treatment?"

"I don't know. Maybe forever at the rate I'm going," she answered unhappily.

"I recognize some of those bricks, you know."

"What are you talking about?" she asked defensively.

"What I mean is that wall you've got under construction all around yourself looks very familiar. Is that why you plowed through my walls so assiduously? To help yourself to the rubble?" Zach asked curiously.

Staring into her orange juice, Kendall said, "Zach, you play dirty."

"No. If I play, I play to win," he said simply.

"Win what? The satisfaction of making me feel worse than I already did?"

"I only want to win your confidence—for you to tell me what is making you quiet."

Glumly, Kendall replied, "You aren't making it any easier, Zach."

He leaned forward across the table. "Would it be easier if _I_ tell _you_?"

An unbidden warmth spread over her cheeks as her heart sank and the recent tension holding her tongue captive suddenly snapped. Unable to control it any longer, Kendall heard words come gushing from her lips in a torrent she couldn't stem. "So Greenlee _did_ get to you! Of course she did, she'll be broadcasting it far and wide! Why didn't you just say you knew, Zach? Why did you say you felt like getting married and ask if I did, when by then you had to know Greenlee was pregnant and she was giving up Miranda? You had to know by then there was no reason—"

Zach calmly interrupted her tirade. "Kendall, I haven't spoken to Greenlee."

"You haven't? Then how did you know about—oh, wait a minute here, just how dumb _am_ I?" Kendall slapped her hand to her forehead. "You never show your hand first. You were faking me out—and I fell for it," she accused him almost tearfully. "I fell right into the trap and blabbed it all, but I guess I had that coming, didn't I?"

Shaking his head, still calmly, Zach replied, "No trap. Not faking you out. It seems we received separate information—which we've each waited to share."

"If Greenlee didn't tell you about Miranda's custody, then who did? I know Ryan wouldn't have."

"Livia Cudahy stopped in to see me this morning before you arrived. She'd received a call from the Laverys' attorney about it earlier."

"_Livia_? I ran into her when I got to the hospital and she didn't say anything about it—and she's my lawyer, too, Zach. If she told you, why didn't she tell me?"

"Because I asked her not to."

Kendall was nonplussed. "Why not?"

"Why didn't you give me Greenlee's news until now?" Zach asked evenly. "By the way, Livia was unaware Greenlee is pregnant. Apparently you knew yesterday?"

In a small, miserable voice, Kendall said, "Why do you think I've been such a wreck, Zach? I mean, on top of everything else I have to be a wreck about lately?"

He paused. "Before we proceed with this, do you think we can check on my medication?"

The abrupt change of subject should have come as a reprieve, but Kendall couldn't switch gears that automatically. "_What_?"

"Now this conversation's begun, this isn't where I want to end it." Zach said matter-of-factly, slowly easing himself from the banquette and climbing to his feet as if to emphasize the statement. "I don't have my wallet."

"Oh—I brought it with me. It's in my purse." _Anybody would think we're an old married couple already,_ Kendall reflected, close to some kind of hysteria as she rummaged in her bag_, except the married part is never going to happen. _

Taking the wallet from her with a nod, Zach pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and laid it on the table to cover their modest meals. Their waitress would be getting a most generous tip. At least someone would benefit from this little disaster. _So much for trying to be normal_, Kendall thought. As off-balance as she felt, she was glad—if surprised—when Zach took her by the arm and gently squeezed it. Unable to prevent herself from gazing up into his face, she was surprised even more to see, visible beneath the suppressed pain contouring his brow, his bemused, almost tender expression, an expression far removed from the cool contempt she expected to find.

"Zach, let me explain. Please," she blurted.

"Soon, Kendall, soon. We both will," he assured her.

And she had to be content with that, if content was the appropriate word. In a short while, pain medication safely in a bag gripped in Zach's hand, they were back in the SUV, with Kendall at the wheel again and with no clue as to what direction to take—in what seemed a most apt metaphor for the entire situation. At the moment the most logical direction led home, so it that was that route which Kendall took, not asking Zach's opinion. He sat with his head tilted against the headrest, eyes shut, giving the impression he would or could no longer stave off his surgery's aftereffects through sheer force of will alone.

Removing the bag from Zach's unresisting hand, she read through the list of potential adverse reactions included with the medication. Dizziness, lightheadedness, nausea, drowsiness…Kendall wrinkled her nose. "So much for going out of town to renew our nonexistent vows," she muttered under her breath.

It seemed like another reprieve, the very quiet drive home, but she dreaded the end of it. Pine Valley not being that extensive in terms of size and distance, mere minutes later she was guiding the big Range Rover into the condo complex car park. After giving their niece such a priceless, selfless gift, this anticlimactic trip was Zach's homecoming…the act warranted a more meaningful one, and Kendall blamed herself that instead his return somehow felt as though they were sneaking home. But perhaps filtering everything through what she acknowledged was the off-kilter prism of her own irrationality didn't make for the best measure of reality.

"We're home," Kendall announced quietly, uncertain whether he was awake or asleep, and if the words 'we' and 'home' still belonged in the same sentence.

He stirred. "Well done," he said wryly.

The brief rest seemed to have given Zach a second wind. Once they were inside Kendall's condo he carefully positioned himself on the sofa, evidently intent on resuming the discussion where they'd left off. Patting the sofa cushion beside him, he indicated Kendall should do the same.

"Aren't you going to take one of your pills?" she asked, noticing, as she sat down, the prescription bag on the cocktail table where Zach had dropped it.

He glanced at it before turning to Kendall. "Not yet, Kendall. I want you to tell me something first."

They looked at each other. Again, there was only warmth and tenderness in his steady gaze, so much so Kendall had to fight against keeping her voice from wavering, much less melting weakly into his arms. "I've spilled just about everything there is left to spill now, Zach. What more can I tell you?"

She shivered as his fingers traveled lightly up and down her arm. "There is one thing more," he said. "A question that concerns only you and me and no one else."

"Zach," she swallowed nervously. "Okay."

His hand traveled down to hers and overspread it, fingers tracing the stones of her diamond ring. "Do you still want to marry me?"

"But Zach, now you know we don't _need_ to—"

"Yes or no, Kendall."

She took a deep, cleansing breath. "Of course I want to marry you, but—"

Her words were cut off when Zach pulled her into his arms and began to kiss her. Going to the trouble of melting into them wasn't necessary after all. Kendall forgot he was convalescing until she heard him utter a muffled sound of pain.

Slowly she drew back, searching his face as she did so. "Is this really happening?" she asked shakily. "Did you really ask me to marry you?"

"No," he smiled. "I merely reconfirmed your offer to me."

"Even though I didn't tell you about Greenlee right away?" she persisted. "I tried, Zach, I really did, just maybe…not as hard as I should have." Speaking was becoming harder and harder, too, as the bones in her body seemed to be liquefying under combined pressure of his kisses and now of his fingers, gliding along the side of her jaw.

"You are utterly fixated on that, Kendall. Why is that?"

"It's the kind of thing that always gets me in trouble, and I really don't want to fuck up this time," Kendall said candidly. "But I'm still me and sometimes…well, sometimes, as pathetic as this sounds, I either can't get or shouldn't let certain words within the vicinity of my mouth."

"Do you think I expect moral perfection from you when I'm this flawed? I'm the man who instructed Livia to keep her mouth shut, remember?" Zach pointed out. "The man who then planned to hightail it out of town and marry _you_ before you knew any better."

"Did you really?" Kendall asked in pleased astonishment. "You mean I was suffering these massive pangs of guilt for _nothing_?"

"Isn't that generally the way that works? I didn't say I didn't feel guilty about it," Zach shrugged, "but I wasn't going to risk losing my chance. This was doing it first and asking permission later."

"Well…I don't usually decide in advance if I'd rather be sorry I did something or sorry I didn't do it. I just do it. If I live to regret it, well…then I'm sorry," Kendall mused. "Naturally, one of the few times I _do_ try to think about it first, I manage to screw up. Because, Zach, all my instincts were screaming at me not to let you go, no matter what."

"Your instincts were right. You're a fighter for what you want and for those whom you love, and I respect that." Zach lifted his other hand to the opposite side of her jaw, cupping her face in both his hands. "But whether you're wrong or right, it doesn't matter to me. I want you just as you are, Kendall. I love you just as you are."

_I love you just as you are._ Numerous men had said the first three words to Kendall and with great sincerity. She couldn't recall ever hearing the last four from anyone who still didn't intend to improve her somehow. But of thing she was unswervingly certain: Zach was no more capable of bullshitting than of flying.

"I love you too, Zach. Just as _you_ are." She lifted her hands to his face and brought it forward. Lest they get too carried away again, she confined herself to brushing her lips against his. Even that modest stimulation was almost too much. "God, this is torture," she whispered. "I want…I wish I could show you how much I love you."

Zach kissed her back as beguilingly yet lightly as she'd kissed him before reluctantly withdrawing. "You will, Kendall. Oh, you will. For that I'll make the fastest recovery known to man. In the meantime how soon can you marry me? Today?"

"Zach…I can tell that you're hurting. It's because I do love you that I can't agree to that," she sighed.

Hopefully, he said, "We could be in Virginia in just a few hours. I promise you I'd survive the trip."

"No. I want you to take one of your pain pills, go rest up, and heal just as fast you can. That way," Kendall teased, "when we _do_ get married, you can give me one hell of a wedding night."

Zach chuckled. "Not even married yet and ordering me around, eh?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'll make it worth your while," she promised alluringly. "Besides," she added, "there is _no_ way I'm driving that monster SUV of yours to Virginia. Not with you in the passenger seat hovering over me and making me nervous the entire way."

He exhaled long-sufferingly. "Fair enough. But remember, if you get to nag me, I get to backseat drive."


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter Forty-Four**

Zach had drifted off to sleep, lying on his side, creases of pain smoothed from his face, his bare chest rising and falling strongly and steadily under the thin covering of the cotton sheet. Perched on the edge of the bed, Kendall watched as he slept and wondered why—here being proof the planets could align so spectacularly—they didn't demonstrate the ability more often and with less egregious fallout.

To the world at large, of course, every planet and star in the heavens remained in its traditional orbit and position: The upcoming Hart/Slater wedding was already last week's news no matter how it came about. But to Kendall, everything had changed beyond recognition. Though the ache in her heart over Bianca's and Erica's loss would never abate and the gnawing worry over Miranda's survival was constant, having a partner like Zach to share the ordeal with was the difference between floundering, self-defeated, in never-ending darkness, or having a cleared, lit path to follow.

Coming on the heels of so many tragedies, it almost appeared an invitation to tempt fate. Kendall tried to shake off any superstitious fears and take it as a good sign. But if Bianca and Erica were here, how would they feel about it? If they _were_ here—if Ethan were here—Kendall realized with almost a jolt, she would never have had reason to approach Zach for any reason, much less propose to him. Most likely she would have continued in the erroneous assumption, together with her sister, mother, and ex-lover, that Zach was a miserable excuse for human being at best and a diabolical figure at worst.

Instead of the inestimable cache of buried treasure you discovered when you dug not even all that deep.

"Hey." Zach's eyes opened. "You're still here. Thought you were going back to the hospital."

"And you're supposed to be asleep." Kendall looked at her wristwatch. "Twenty minutes isn't much of a nap, Zach."

Raising himself up on an elbow, he replied, "Got too much on my mind to sleep."

"Zach, a few hours' rest won't make much difference to it, will it?"

"I suppose not. But hear me out. Been thinking about the Cambias offer, in light of everything that's happened since they made the offer."

"The Cambias offer? Oh, please, Zach—Cambias isn't your problem," Kendall protested.

"Even if I turn down the board's offer, half of Cambias is now mine. And half is Miranda's. As her de facto parents now, that makes it my—our—problem in two different ways," Zach said very slowly.

"Shit. You're right." Kendall went over to the maple crib she and Myrtle had bought for Miranda, still standing in the corner of her bedroom, and ran her hand along the top rail. She'd become so accustomed to its presence, yet so resigned to its remaining empty for the time being, that the crib, along with its matching changing station, had receded into the background as something she saw, but stopped noticing.

"I said _shit_ about Cambias," Kendall clarified. "Not Miranda—it's just hard to believe after everything Greenlee and Ryan put me through that we really get to have Miranda after all. But if all goes well…if all goes well, Miranda _is_ going to be right here in this very crib that Greenlee turned her snooty nose up at. That's what I care about, Zach, not Cambias. Look what it did to your father, Michael, and Ethan," she shuddered. "I don't want it dragging either you or Miranda down too."

Curiously, Zach asked, "Do you believe it would drag me down?"

Kendall returned to the bed to sit down again, this time on Zach's side, facing him. "I used to be skeptical of what you called the Cambias Curse. But when I add up the body count…I think you were on to something."

"Michael and Ethan were both insecure men who used Cambias to overcompensate for their limitations. Do you think the seeds of that weakness are in me too?"

"No!" Kendall cried vehemently. "Oh, hell, no! You are nothing like them, Zach, nothing. But I'm afraid somewhere deep inside of you,_ you_ still believe Cambias would affect you the same way, no matter what I say. So does it really matter what I think?"

"And become a self-fulfilling prophecy?" Zach tilted his head. "Of course it matters what you think, Kendall. That's why I told you before I wanted your input—your insights—on the offer."

"Well, the offer is tempting in a lot of ways, and I'm not afraid taking the reins at Cambias would go to your head the way it went to Ethan's, if that's what you mean. But Cambias needs you way more than you need it now. I don't want you to feel trapped in the cycle again when you don't have to be."

"Unfortunately, the cycle's come full circle again," Zach said quietly. "If I accept the board's offer then I would at least have something I never had before—control over it."

"Would you really feel that you had control? You'd always be looking over your shoulder. You'd always be aware how Cambias chewed the rest of your family up and spit them out like some kind of horror movie monster on the rampage." Kendall shuddered again.

"You have a good point there, Kendall," he conceded. "A very good point."

"Zach, in the end it's only a big company with your ex-family name on it—and you changed your name a long time ago. You got away from it. Why should you go back and surrender to it now?"

"All right, say I don't. What about Miranda?" he asked intently. "Cambias still enters our lives through her. I can't undo the terms of my father's will leaving half of it to her, Kendall, any more than you and I can ignore the responsibility we'll bear for shepherding that inheritance until she's of age."

Zach's hand was lying outside the covers, his fingers fitfully drumming on them. Kendall reached down to take them between hers as she carefully tried to choose her words. "Miranda isn't even two years old. Why couldn't we hire 'shepherds' to manage her half of Cambias for the next twenty years? Then you and I could forget it even exists except when we have outside audits performed just to make sure she's not being robbed blind."

"We could do that, I suppose. But I presumed we'd emulate Bianca in that respect, stepping in for Miranda ourselves." Zach gripped Kendall's hand in return at his mention Bianca's name.

Kendall closed her eyes, appreciating the sensitive warmth of his touch, before responding. "You're just determined to stick us with Cambias, aren't you, Zach?"

"No, not really. I suppose the more apt term for it is the one you already used—I feel trapped," he admitted unselfconsciously. "I've seen my share of horror movies too—probably more than you have. The big gaping maw of Cambias seems to be filling up the window."

"Oh, Zach, Bianca may have been willing to take on Cambias but that doesn't mean we have to. I never really understood why Bianca did that, anyway."

"What more can I tell you?" Zach asked. "It's the power of Cambias, I suppose. It sucks people in. If Bianca had had a real chance, perhaps she might have tamed the beast."

Earnestly, Kendall replied, "She might have, but you and I already have enough on our plates—I have a business of my own to run, and so do you. More importantly—we'll have Miranda to raise and keep happy and healthy. Isn't that going to be enough of a challenge without trying to make sure the goddamned business portfolio ill-wished on her by a bitter old man stays gold-plated?"

For several moments Zach was silent. Then he said, "You know what, Kendall? You're a wise woman."

She gave a little laugh along with a sly look directed at him. "I'd like you to write that statement down, sign it, and date it for me. I want to file that one away."

"I'd sign anything for you, Kendall," he smiled at her, but his voice was very sober when he added, "I'd do anything for you."

"Oh, I want that in writing too! Because…do you really want the rest of my opinion on what you should do with your half of Cambias and my final word on the CEO offer?"

Zach nodded. "Lay it on me."

"Okay, then here goes. First, I think you should put your half in a trust for Miranda for when she's of age. We'll already be holding our breaths when she comes into her own inheritance anyway. What's another couple billion or so in the pot?" Holding her breath now, Kendall waited for Zach's reaction.

Again, he nodded. "Done. Go on—give me the rest of it."

Moving close enough to him to snuggle against his side, Kendall said softly, "I want you to tell the Cambias board of directors to go fuck themselves."

Zach laughed. "That's even blunter than I usually am."

"Why beat around the bush?" she insisted. "They need to be told in no uncertain terms to find themselves some other sacrificial lamb. Because I'm marrying a man named Zachery Slater—_not _Alexander Cambias, Jr."

Zach's arm curved around her shoulders. "Slam dunk, on both counts. And that, my very wise fiancée, is quite a weight off my mind."

"Really, Zach? Just like that? You're following all my suggestions just like that?" Kendall asked almost in confusion at his readiness to heed them.

"Mmm-hmm. Just like that," he agreed. "Care to have that signed and dated and put in writing as well?"

"Signed, dated, and notarized for my collection. No, just kidding. I'll take your word. And now," Kendall said, unwillingly undraping Zach's arm from around her and climbing to her feet, "that I've helped reduce the weight on your mind, Mr. Slater, I have one more order for you."

Lowering himself back to his pillow, Zach replied wryly, "Let me guess. "I'm actually getting pretty good at this being ordered around thing."

"Right." Kendall put her hands on her hips. "Then you don't need me to tell you to get back to resting and healing, so I can go back to the hospital to check on Miranda without having to worry about my other patient."

"I won't argue. Kendall—?"

"Do you need anything before I leave?"

"Give my congratulations to Greenlee. Or Ryan. Or both."

"I will if I see them. Greenlee hasn't been haunting the hospital so much lately." Kendall leaned down to kiss Zach goodbye, and what was meant to be a quick kiss turned into a long lingering one she finally had to break away from with difficulty. But the promise of more was in Zach's eyes as she left the room. A fresh thought occurred to her, and at the doorway, she turned back. "If the Cambias board asks for your opinion on any other candidates, maybe Ryan would be interested again."

"Is that so? Good for him," Zach said levelly.

"Really, though, Zach, he seemed to handle running Cambias pretty well before. And at least…if Ryan's back at the helm, he's a devil we know."

"A devil more than happy to collaborate in depriving you of your niece." Zach's voice took on a cold, hard edge she hadn't heard for awhile, reminding Kendall of the man she'd once considered scary, quiet, and lethal. "You see," he added, his voice softening, "I'm not quite as prepared to be as magnanimous as you."

"Well, it was just a thought. Now that you mention it, I guess it was a pretty lame one," she said sheepishly. "Can't expect you to go for all my ideas, though, huh?"

"It's not a lame idea, Kendall—it's a generous and practical one. But there's too much water under the bridge between Lavery and me for me to extend myself to do him any favors."

"Oh, I understand, Zach. I guess I was thinking more of Greenlee than Ryan. As often as I want to wring her neck, we've been through a lot together and now she's having a baby. She's not hurting for money, but it would give Ryan a foundation of his own."

"How's this for a compromise—I won't put in an unsolicited good word for Lavery. But if the board should approach him independently, as I suspect they might, I won't interfere."

Returning to the bed, Kendall gazed down at Zach, smoothing his ruffled hair back from his forehead and caressing his cheek. "Negotiating with you is fun. You're making it awfully hard for me to leave when I know I should."

"Well, let's see, we've disposed of Cambias and Lavery; what else is there? I could think of another inducement to keep you except I'm kind of indisposed at the moment," he grinned. "But you're right, you should. I only wish I could go with you. But I'll be here when you get back."

"I do like the sound of that. Promise you will be good while I'm gone. No phone calls, no logging on, no television or radio, just plenty of rest, hopefully sleep-type rest, and that's not nagging or orders or bossing you around. That's just me, trying to let you know—" Kendall leaned over and pressed her lips quickly to his brow "—how much I love you."

She felt her pulse throb at the intensity of Zach's gaze on her when she arose. "And you're making it damn hard for me to remember I'm indisposed," he replied gruffly.


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter Forty-Five**

As she drove to the hospital, Kendall found her thoughts turning to more than the impact on Miranda, Zach, and herself of Miranda's Cambias side-of-the-family inheritance. The disappearance of Erica, Bianca, and Jackson had left so many unanswered questions, but the legalities still had to be dealt with. Through her mother, Miranda was also a Kane and a Montgomery; she stood to inherit a great deal of wealth and influence from both of those connections. Since Bianca had died intestate, her considerable assets, including her large Montgomery trust fund, automatically passed on to her daughter.

Raising the issue now with Livia Cudahy seemed premature, but once Miranda was out of danger, Kendall knew that as excruciating as it would be, it was crucial. And Erica…Kendall swallowed past the expanding lump in her throat…Livia would have to help with Erica's will as well, since Jackson, Erica's own lawyer, was gone now too. Although she expected to be a major beneficiary, along with Bianca and Miranda, that aspect of it was the least of Kendall's concerns. What mattered to Kendall was ensuring Miranda's future—ensuring her niece was in receipt of everything to which she was entitled, and protected in every way she and Zach could possibly foresee as being necessary.

That necessity made their marriage seem even more urgent, Kendall reflected. Both as the means for her and Zach to be united in a secure and permanent relationship for Miranda's personal benefit, and because it solidified their position as her guardians. Nothing was a done deal yet; they couldn't afford to become complacent. What if Greenlee changed her mind about custody? She'd renounced it only because she'd discovered she was pregnant. If something happened to the Laverys' unborn child, however, all bets could very well be off. The Slaters and the Laverys could end up squaring off in court after all. And while J.R.'s blackmail scheme seemed to have been dealt a mortal blow, Kendall wouldn't put it past him to try to raise it from the dead if he scented the tiniest opening.

With all of that to preoccupy her, Kendall arrived at Pine Valley Hospital to find Miranda was still undergoing the second of her three chemotherapy treatments in the reverse isolation chamber in which she'd been placed. The good news was Miranda was still holding her own, but the treatment made her currently inaccessible to all but medical personnel. Neither Greenlee nor Ryan was anywhere in sight, nor had been seen all day.

There was nothing else for Kendall to do but spend the balance of the afternoon and early evening hours by herself in the waiting room, fidgety and bored out of her skull by her own company, but afraid to leave in case anything happened. Finally, to her relief, Greenlee sauntered in and took a seat, giving Kendall what could only be termed a maternal smile.

"I didn't think you were going to make it," Kendall said conversationally, trying to mask her annoyance.

With the air of an expert, Greenlee replied, "Just wait until Zach gets you pregnant, Kendall, and you get morning sickness. If you get even half as nauseous as I do, you'll be spending most of your time worshipping the porcelain pagoda and you'll wonder why they call it morning sickness because it hits you morning, noon and night."

Making a show of moving away, Kendall asked in distaste, "Do you sound a warning before you start to heave?"

"Ha ha, very funny, Kendall. Ryan says there's nothing more beautiful than a pregnant woman, so there. I've been okay for awhile now so I thought it was safe."

"So where's the proud father? Don't tell me he actually lets you out on your own now."

"Oh, I got this huge taste for peanut butter cheese crackers on the way in, but we could only find those awful cheese-filled cheese crackers in any of the vending machines we passed so far. So Ryan's going around the hospital trying to find me some peanut butter cheese ones," Greenlee explained as if it made perfect sense. "And I told him to buy me all he could find, so if he can find enough of them and if you're hungry too, maybe I could share—?"

"No, thanks, Greenlee, I wouldn't want to deprive you," Kendall said hastily, although she was hungry. "If you and Ryan are planning to be here for awhile, I want to go home and check on Zach."

"Oh, how's he doing after his surgery?" Greenlee asked disinterestedly. "Hey, look at my stomach, Kendall—tell me, do you think it looks any rounder yet? I can't decide if my dress fits any tighter than usual."

"After you've been puking all day? Nope! Sorry, Greenlee, it still looks flat as a board." Kendall climbed to her feet. "Oh, and Zach is fine, by the way. He said when I saw you to give you and Ryan his congratulations."

"How kind of him! Did you hear that, little Bianca Erica or Jackson Ryan?" Greenlee cooed to her abdomen. "You may not be very big yet, but everybody is just _so_ thrilled you're on the way!"

Hearing the names of her sister and mother reduced to such saccharine baby talk, Kendall muttered, "Greenlee, you're about to turn _my_ stomach."

Looking up, Greenlee asked brightly, "What was that, Kendall?"

"Um…I said _bon appetit_ and I hope you can keep down those crackers when Ryan shows up with them. If not…." Kendall pointed out the waste bin by the exit as she left. Outside the door, she ran into a scowling, empty-handed Ryan. "The mighty hunter returns to his mate empty-handed, I see," she said breezily in passing, glad to be escaping both of the Laverys for the time being.

"Just what the hell do you mean by that, Kendall?" Ryan stopped her by blocking her path.

Kendall stared at him in shock. "What did _I_ mean? I didn't mean anything by it. It was only a harmless question. What do _you_ mean, Ryan?"

Condescendingly, he returned her stare. "A harmless question? I don't buy it, Kendall. Of course you meant something. It's the exact bitter, sarcastic reaction I expected from you after you found out Greenlee and I were having a child."

"But I'm happy for you and Greenlee," she protested. "Why on earth would I be bitter now? I'm planning my own life with Zach—and Miranda."

"That's exactly why—because you _are_ marrying Slater," Ryan scowled. "What else is that but a colossally bitter 'fuck you' to me and the rest of the world?"

"Ryan…I don't know where this is coming from but you're way off base."

"You think? Word through the grapevine is your intended'll be rolling in Cambias dough before long. You sure played your cards right on that one, didn't you, Kendall?"

"Is that what this is about?" she asked in genuine, growing, bewilderment. "Are _you_ bitter—about losing Cambias again, to Zach this time? Otherwise I don't know—"

Defensively, Ryan replied, "Me, bitter? Not at all. I have everything I need. I just would have thought you'd be more careful where you aimed your digs, seeing as how we've opted to relinquish custody of Miranda. Remember, it's not too late for us to change our minds."

Kendall gasped. "Jesus Christ, Ryan! Look who's aiming digs! I wasn't doing that at all. But now what, do I wait for you to trot out that threat about Miranda every time you decide I somehow haven't shown you the proper deference?"

Ryan folded his arms across his chest and went on scowling "As a matter of fact, I _am_ opposed to turning Miranda over to you and Slater. I'm only going along with that…for now…because I don't want Greenlee stretched too thin. Nothing is carved in stone yet, so do consider it a warning."

Standing her ground in spite of the alarm bells Ryan's words were ringing in a tightening circle around her feet, Kendall responded with more spirit than she felt, "Oh, now I get it, Ryan—gee, what took me so long? It's the same old story. I'm always the one on trial—you're always the one who gets to act as jury, judge, and executioner."

Ryan's tone was almost bullying. "Kendall, as always you try to make it all about you and it's not. It's also about the lowlife you've chosen to throw your lot in with. I don't give a rat's ass if every last ounce of bone marrow sucked out of Slater's carcass got spun into twenty-four karat gold matching the border around his new Cambias stock. He'll never be fit to raise Bianca's child."

_You hypocritical, jealous bastard_, Kendall thought furiously. _It _kills _you that Zach could save Miranda and you couldn't, and it kills you that you didn't get any of Cambias back after Ethan died. Zach was right not to just hand that back to you on a silver platter. _Aloud, she said only, "Well, not very many of us can live up to your high standards, can we, Ryan? But if Miranda's custody does go to trial, it won't be your standards the judge applies."

"We'll see about that, Kendall. I advise you not to press your luck."

"Ryan? What have you been doing out there all this time?" Her voice sounded peevishly as Greenlee edged out from behind Kendall. "Kendall, why are you holding him up? You know I'm waiting for my crackers. Don't you have my crackers, Ryan? I'm absolutely _famished_!"

"Er—," Ryan stuttered, turning from Kendall to Greenlee with an almost comically visible attempt to shift his focus from a touchy, potentially consequential discussion to a far more trivial one.

A flood of relief washed over Kendall at the disruption. "I was just leaving, Greenlee. Far be it from me to get between you and food. And," she flung over her shoulder as she walked away, "please tell your husband the only thing I was even _thinking_ about when I ran into him was how very hungry you were."

"The hell you were, Kendall," Ryan called after her. "You were taunting me about how things have shaken down—"

"Ryan, I was simply referring to your lack of success in finding cheese crackers for Greenlee—although maybe that _is_ a related subject."

"_Peanut butter_ cheese crackers, Ryan! You know they have to have peanut butter—"

Rounding a corner, Kendall proceeded several more yards down the corridor at a rapid pace until Greenlee faded out completely. Then she came to a stop, leaned against the wall, and exhaled a deep sigh of relief, immediately followed by a quickly pervading apprehension inspired by Ryan's antagonism. _Why can't he just be happy with Greenlee and their own baby? Why is he still looking to put me in the wrong over the littlest thing? I knew it was too good to be true, that they would just let us have Miranda without a fight. I was right to be worried. _

A sudden weariness began to descend on Kendall and weigh her down with unaccustomed inertia. She was just so tired of being forced to fight for everything—the same thing—over and over again, so very tired of taking one step backward for every two steps forward. Where was it written that everything good that came to her must come so damn hard? Who decided that the balance sheet had finally tipped against her enough to start tipping the other way? When would it be determined that any of the punishing struggles she endured for once entitled her to come out ahead?

_Zach_, a little voice reminded Kendall. _You have Zach. You're not struggling alone._

That was true…without Zach's support the situation would have been completely hopeless; with it, it was far from that, but Zach was recovering from surgery, dealing with his own sources of pain. Now she had to go home and admit to him that as far as Miranda was concerned they might be right back where they'd started. To add to Kendall's depression, the night was chilly and damp, with drizzle beading her hair and eyelashes with moisture as soon as she left the hospital's canopied entrance.

The wet roadways reflected street lights, headlamps, and taillights in confusing patterns, obliterating road markings and making the route home from the hospital seem unfamiliar. Despite knowing it blindfolded, Kendall found herself making a right turn too soon. By the time she realized her mistake, the drizzle had intensified into a driving rain with which the windshield wipers could barely keep up, further disorienting her. This narrow two-lane route had no streetlights, and no landmarks, being bordered on either side by long stretches of vegetation broken up by an occasional house set too far back from the road for any sort of recognition..

On the verge of an unreasoning panic that she knew was uncalled for but felt unable to control, Kendall began to look for a driveway in which to turn around. The problem was that no sooner did she manage to make one out along the dark, wet shoulder of the road than she had already driven past it. Uttering every swear word in her vocabulary, Kendall gripped the steering wheel and drove slowly on, alternately praying the road eventually intersected with one she recognized.

Dim lights flickered to the right. Braking almost to a halt, Kendall realized they were reflective driveway markers. She turned onto the driveway apron, pulling forward just enough to clear the road, then threw the transmission into reverse and accelerated. But instead of backing the car out on the road as directed, the wheels only spun uselessly, keeping her car in place. The harder Kendall pushed her foot down on the accelerator, the faster they spun.

"_Shit_!" she cried. "Shit! Shit! Shit! Don't even _tell_ me I'm stuck!" Gingerly stepping out into the rain and onto the mix of gravel and mud under the car, Kendall walked carefully around the hood of the car to inspect the other side. She discovered that she had indeed misjudged the width of the driveway and the right front and rear wheels were half sunk into a muddy berm, her efforts to move the car having only dug them in deeper. Swearing would obviously be of little further use. Kendall went back to the car for her cell phone.

_SEARCHING FOR SIGNAL…SEARCHING FOR SIGNAL…_was the only message she could get the phone to display. "Fuck," she muttered.

Maybe another car would come along soon, with a driver who was not a psychopathic maniac and who was inclined to help her, and maybe it wouldn't. In the meantime, Kendall decided to investigate where the driveway led. If it led nowhere she was no worse off than she was now, and perhaps it led to some form of rescue. One thing was certain: She could not become any wetter than she already was. Swallowing bravely, Kendall peered rather ineffectively through the downpour and, treading cautiously, traveled onward. A short distance ahead, she became aware of a dark structure looming out of the rain.

Hoping it offered shelter, Kendall cupped her hand over her eyes and impulsively darted toward it. With her vision adjusting to the darkness, she was able to make out more details as it came closer and she was seized by a vague sensation of having been this way before, similar to a feeling of déjà vu…not frightening, exactly, but alien to her normal existence. Then the vague sensation sharpened into conviction as a door creaked open, a soft golden glow spilled forth, and a warm, accented voice, evidently originating from the bulky figure silhouetted in the doorway against the backlight, said, "Good evening to ya, Kendall Hart. What took ya so long?"


	46. Chapter 46

**Chapter Forty-Six**

"Oh my god. Father Clarence? Not _you_ again!" Kendall blurted in disbelief, trying to clear her vision of tangled hair and rain and prove herself wrong. But it was no use. The figure before her would not be cleared. He was the same Irish priest she'd encountered after her escape from Pine Valley Hospital on the Christmas Eve following Bianca's fall from the hotel balcony, when Bianca's life had hung in the balance.

"Ah, I'm that flattered you remember me then. Hasn't it been awhile since we met! Surely long enough—and seldom enough—not to earn me that 'again'?" the unusual old man chuckled.

"Oh, please, like I could ever forget you?" Kendall cried. "That was the most horrible night of my life, the night I thought Bianca—"

"The night you feared Bianca would perish?" he asked gently.

Kendall felt the gall of bitterness rise up in her from the depths of her soul, all the way up to her throat, threatening to strangle her with its mordant fingers. "Oh, she perished, all right, so you better not expect credit for being right that night—it just took her a little longer to perish than you thought! Did you know that, you phony old windbag with all your empty talk about having faith?"

"Phony old windbag, am I? Oh, Miss Hart, surely you can do better than that. I've been called far worse. A windbag I may be, but the content of my talk was not empty."

The continued tolerance of the priest's tone simply enraged Kendall further. "I tried, I really tried, I tried so hard to practice what you told me, and you know what happened? I got royally, royally _screwed_!" she almost screamed. "Didn't you hear me? Bianca _did_ perish! See how wrong you were?"

"I heard you. Now it's entirely bucketing out there and there's no need to catch pneumonia with it." Father Clarence made a sweeping motion toward the interior behind him with his arm. "Come in, come in then, my girl, and let's talk about it in civilization."

His unnatural tranquility made Kendall back up nervously. "What are you, some kind of _vulture _who gets off on people's grief? Do you really think I'd fall for your blarney a second time?"

"It doesn't appear you fell for it the first time," he stated mildly.

Kendall swallowed. It was time to get out of here. "Look—my car is stuck in your driveway and my cell phone can't pick up a signal out here—if you'll just call Triple A for me we'll call it a draw."

"Now how might I do that?"

Fumbling in her purse for her membership card and shielding it in her hand from the rain, Kendall held it out to the priest. "Here's the information—the phone number to call, and my name and membership number, you'll need to give those to the operator. You already know where my car is and I'll just go wait for them in it."

Father Clarence chuckled again. "You may as well put that card away, Miss Hart, and come in as I suggested. I haven't a phone."

"How can you not have a phone?" she demanded. "Aren't you a _priest_? Don't people need to call you for—for emergencies?"

The priest smiled benignly. "'Tisn't strictly necessary for my particular line of work so why waste a good phone number? Y'see, the poor souls most in need of me seldom have time to ring me in advance."

She shuddered. "Oh, that makes me feel lots better."

"And so it should," Father Clarence replied somewhat briskly, "if you but tried to understand. Now if you'll humor me and come in before this wind wraps around my aching bones any worse, I've got a kettle on the hob and we'll wet the tea while we wait for the rain to let up."

"We'll _what_?"

"Wet the tea. Make tea, that is. And share a bit of a chat by the fire. I'm willing to overlook your prejudices if you'll overlook mine. Then, once the sky dries up, we'll see if between us we can slide your vehicle out of the muck."

Kendall actually hesitated for a moment. Tea by the fire, and assistance: It was tempting. The only problem was that the offer came from this deluded, deluding old man who didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. So she replied, "No, thank you. I'll assume you at least mean well, but I'm used to managing on my own."

The cheerful face of Father Clarence fell a notch. "You'll not keep an old man company this evening then? I was so looking forward to your visit. Come on, now, who'll be hurt by it?"

"Oh, please. It's not like you knew I was coming. I got here completely by accident. 'Who'll be hurt?'" After repeating the question, Kendall asked cynically, "You're kidding, right?"

"Very well, Miss Hart," Father Clarence sighed. "A well-meaning, lonely priest bows before your more energetic determination to leave him to his solitary meal."

She felt a tiny twinge. "That isn't fair. You're playing the guilt card."

"I never indulge in cards, Miss Hart. Now I'll bid you goodnight, and go in to say a small prayer to Saint Christopher to speed your safe arrival home."

In response, a thoroughly drenched Kendall shivered and sneezed violently—at the same time lightning flashed in the sky, introducing a low threatening growl of thunder and leaving a scorched smell in the air. "_Shit_!" she screamed, eyes widening in fear. "What are you really doing, unleashing plagues?"

The priest wagged his great shaggy head. "'Tis the unstable atmosphere above us responsible for that, Miss Hart, and not my doing. However, I will repeat my invitation should you care to avail yourself now of a nice cup of tea and my fireside while waiting for the storm to abate."

"Well…," Kendall vacillated, torn once again now her physical safety was at stake, but still reluctant to give in to him, until a fresh, ear-splitting boom of thunder finally sent her scuttling wildly in the direction of the doorway, Father Clarence retreating without a word.

To Kendall's surprise, she found herself in a small, cozy room. A wide chimney and mantelpiece of fieldstone, a small blaze burning merrily in its hearth, occupied the width of one wall. Ceiling-high shelves, sagging under vertical and horizontal stacks of books, took up much of the remaining wall space. Before the fire two armchairs deeply upholstered in a dark blue willow leaf print were positioned at a slight angle to each other, a round walnut pedestal table between them. The wide-planked floor was covered with a fringed oriental carpet in deep jewel tones of ruby, emerald, and sapphire.

"I thought I was going into the chapel. This doesn't look anything like a chapel," Kendall said, looking around and feeling rather relieved by her inspection. This space she'd entered was not the one she remembered. It was secular, devoid of the placidly blank-faced plaster religious figurines she'd longed to smash during her first meeting with Father Clarence. But it had an unworldly feeling of its own that Kendall found unexpectedly charming. The flames danced off a brass lantern and crystal decanter on the table and a large gray cat snored before the hearth in an alluring, timeless kind of way.

"No, my dear, you arrived via my private entrance tonight. This is the sitting room of my own little cottage behind the church."

"Well, I—I'm dripping all over your carpet," Kendall said uncertainly.

"'Tis only a bit of rainwater sent from the heavens above. Let me take your coat, Miss Hart. I suspect you're dry underneath."

In a few moments, Kendall was installed in an easy chair, not quite sure how her wet hair had so efficiently become swathed in a linen towel turban, her wet shoes propped before the fire, her bare feet swaddled in terrycloth toweling, and her coat hung from the edge of the mantelpiece. The rest of her was reasonably dry, but she continued to shiver and sneeze.

Tsk-tsking over the skimpiness of her sleeveless flounced dress, Father Clarence tactfully draped a warm crocheted afghan over Kendall's bare shoulders. By the time the priest carried in a tray loaded with a blue onion-patterned tea service, she was curled up in the comfortable chair, almost dozing. But she came to with a start at the sound of shifting crockery as he lowered the tray to the table beside her, snapping back to unpleasant reality. When he handed her a brimming cup of steaming tea, Kendall sniffed it suspiciously.

"There's nothing in that cup but good old Irish breakfast tea, Miss Hart—and water from the tap," Father Clarence smiled down at her.

"You can't blame me for wondering," she argued. "I don't trust you. I don't share your beliefs. I already had a really crappy evening, I just wanted to get home to my fiancé, I take a wrong turn, and my car gets stuck practically at your door. Go figure, huh? Don't pretend there's not something not quite right about that."

The priest took a seat opposite her. "Will you tell me something, Miss Hart?" He asked curiously, not giving her a chance to assent before adding, "Do you never tire of putting up a fight?"

The question reminded Kendall so of her earlier internal soliloquy that it silenced rather than prompted her to speak. Instead she took an offended sip of tea. Who the hell was this priest—this purported priest—to interrogate her, who was he to imply there was anything wrong with the way she did things, when her actions sprang from necessity rather than choice?

"Did I hear you make mention of a fiancé?" Father Clarence tried again as the silence between them lengthened.

"Yes," she said shortly.

"Why, my heartiest congratulations indeed to the lucky groom!" he beamed. "And best wishes to you, of course. Might I be acquainted with your intended?"

"I doubt it."

"When is your big day to be, if I may inquire without being intrusive?"

"Once he recovers from surgery." Kendall was immediately sorry for volunteering that much information.

"Oh, 'twas for nothing too serious, I hope?"

"For him? Not really."

"And doesn't he have the best reason to make a speedy recovery then, with you, Miss Hart, waiting to become his bride!"

"Maybe." She stared into her cup of amber tea. _Zach,_ _if only I took your car instead of mine. It wouldn't have gotten stuck like mine did. I'd be home with you right now instead of with this—this lunatic._

The priest looked thoughtful. "If you don't mind me saying so, you don't put me much in mind of a woman about to wed. Why are you not overflowing with joy?"

"And why do you ask so many questions?" Kendall retorted.

"Why, when you want to know something, you must ask, of course," Father Clarence said good-naturedly. "And 'tis not idle curiosity on my part. I would be remiss in not inquiring about your young man. Since meeting your sister two Christmas Eves ago and meeting you and Miranda last Christmas Eve, I've taken quite the interest in your family, you know."

Though settled in its saucer in Kendall's hand, her teacup began to rattle dangerously. Before the urge to throw it at him became too strong, Kendall hastily lowered it to the table. "Don't go there, Father Clarence," she cautioned, trying to keep her voice steady. "Just do not even _go_ there."

"Or you'll start calling me by descriptive names other than my own again?"

"I…no. No, I can't," she admitted grudgingly, "not when I'm accepting your hospitality, even if I never wanted to accept it in the first place, but…."

"My memories of them are delightful, you know," the priest said softly.

Gazing into the blazing fire, Kendall replied, "Yeah? Well, so are mine. And that's all I have of them now, of Bianca and Erica, anyway. _Memories_. I'm sorry, Father, but your advice really stinks. Nothing you told me last Christmas panned out."

Father Clarence stepped across the room to lightly prod with the poker a hissing log threatening to escape the grate. Turning back to Kendall he asked gravely, "Did I not advise you to have faith, and were you not shown its worth when Bianca survived her fall and was reunited with her wee daughter—a matter I was allowed to play my own small part in, may I remind you?"

Kendall shifted uncomfortably in her chair before leaning forward and saying heatedly, "Oh, I let you talk me into having faith all right—like a complete idiot I let myself believe everything would finally work out for Bianca and Miranda and Erica and me—and then _boom_! It totally blew up in our faces!"

Intently, tapping the cooled poker against his other hand, Father Clarence asked, "Weren't you just sure as fate of that the last time I saw you then, Miss Hart?–and if I may be blunt, weren't you in the wrong. Are you so very sure you're in the right now?"

"All you have to do is read the papers to know the answer to that question," Kendall said more quietly. What, after all, was the point of losing her temper with this stubborn old Irishman whom she couldn't seem to budge? "The very thing I feared most not only happened after all, it happened ten times worse. So I'd really like to know what good having faith ever did me in the long run. I'm _all_ ears."

The priest replaced the poker in its stand on the hearth and returned to his seat. "Miss Hart, may I suggest we not continue to waste our brief time together at odds over temporary philosophical differences? Tell me instead about this young man of yours."

"And if I don't? Or are you planning to keep me here until I do?" Kendall asked dubiously.

Father Clarence's blue eyes twinkled. "No, my dear. My time here is really rather short, you might say. I've missionary work to finish elsewhere and I must return to it before you and I will meet again."

"Okay, then, I'll make this real short for both our sakes. His name is Zach. May I go now?" Placing a hand on each arm of her chair, Kendall prepared to rise, but the priest motioned her to stay seated.

"Zach…hmm, doesn't that name ring a teeny bell…," the priest mused. "You wouldn't be meaning by any chance Zach Slater? Young Miranda's uncle on her father's side of the family?"

"That's the one. So you do read the papers."

"If I must. Now, Miss Hart, you may find this a wee bit comical coming from a confirmed celibate such as myself, but I'm a bit of the romantic persuasion, not having it in my own life, y'see. I'd dearly love to hear how Mr. Slater won your heart."

Taking a deep breath, Kendall prepared to block his request for the second time. "Father Clarence—"

"Oh, please," he begged beguilingly. "Humor an old man."

And suddenly Kendall found herself saying, "I'm not sure I can explain it. I hated Zach at first. I even blamed him for the plane crash. But he just—he started helping me so I could get custody of Miranda."

"Mr. Slater must love you very much then," Father Clarence said expectantly.

Kendall laughed. "Zach had no more use for me than I had for him. He only helped me for Bianca's sake, because he loved Bianca, too, and he knew that was what she would want."

"And didn't the two of you go falling in love with each other and didn't he go popping the question because of it and isn't that just how it should be," the priest sighed almost blissfully. "Restores my own faith in love, it does then."

"It wasn't exactly like that," Kendall explained, almost against her will. "I thought being married would help me with custody, and especially if I was married to Zach, because of him being Miranda's uncle. So I proposed to him. I was surprised when he accepted."

Father Clarence's open features creased in abject disappointment. "'Tis hopelessly old-fashioned I must be, Miss Hart. Didn't I just assume you and Mr. Slater were making a true love match, although of course marriage for the sake of a child is a fine substitute."

Somehow Kendall couldn't let the priest keep the impression she'd been unable to avoid giving him. Deluded he may have been on some things, but he shouldn't be deluded on that point. "You put events in the wrong order, but you came up with the right end result. I'm not just marrying Zach because of Miranda. I'm marrying him because he's been so wonderful to me that he did win my heart and I love him. Are you satisfied now, Father Clarence?" she snapped.

The downcast expression on his face metamorphosed into a more inscrutable one. "Not entirely, Miss Hart. A marriage where only one does the loving is a poor lopsided thing indeed. Does Mr. Slater return your feelings?"

To her dismay, Kendall's cheeks reflected a visible warmth owing nothing to the crackling fire before which she sat. Before she could speak, the priest gave one of his chuckles.

"'Playful blushes, that seemed naught but luminous escapes of thought.'(1) Say no more, Miss Hart, say no more."

"Yeah, well, I've already said too much already, and I don't know why." Restlessly, she unwound the linen wrapped around her hair and shook out her long ringlets, combing through them with her fingers as best she could. Her hair was damp, but wringing wet no longer. "I need to go. I gave you your little chat, and now _you're_ on to help me move my car." Slipping her feet into her shoes, Kendall found they were damp as well, though wearable, as was her coat, which she also slipped on in order to preempt any resistance to her departure. "Whether or not the rain has stopped."

Cupping a hand to his ear and tilting his head toward the ceiling, Father Clarence agreed jovially. "What cooperative weather after all. I do believe it has stopped. Would you be objecting if I merely showed you to the door? Y'see, I have others to tend to after you and they're waiting."

As if to prove how seriously he suddenly meant business, the priest took Kendall by the arm and began to conduct her out, while she remonstrated, "But what about my car?"

"'Tis an odd thing I've kenned about the mud in these parts. D'you know that as soon as rain stops lashing, the mud dries up altogether. I predict you won't have a bit of trouble with it now."

"But—" Kendall now stood on the doorstep, very much wondering if the priest was about to slam the door in her face in his abrupt zeal to send her on her way. He already had his hand on it. But it seemed he had one thing more left to say first.

"Miss Hart, you have my gratitude for chatting with me and I do hope the pleasure was mutual. And doesn't that just put me in mind of one more question. Have you and Mr. Slater arranged for a wedding officiant yet?"

It took Kendall a second or two to comprehend his meaning. "If you're asking whether we have someone lined up to marry us, the answer is no. We're having a civil ceremony so I guess it'll just be a judge or a justice of the peace."

"A civil ceremony," Father Clarence repeated. "Are you now? Sure and if you change your minds…I'll be back in a few days' time."

"I—I'll discuss it with Zach." _No, I won't! He'll think I've lost my mind. _

Holding her breath, Kendall started her car, put it in reverse, and eased down on the accelerator. Just as the priest had predicted, it rolled freely backward, out of the mud and back onto the road. Feeling almost as if she'd just awakened from a very strange dream, Kendall headed back the way she'd come.

_

* * *

(1)_ Sir Thomas Moore. 


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter Forty-Seven**

In the midst of twisting the cap from a bottle of sparkling water, Zach heard a metallic clink followed by a muffled sound coming from outside the front door and glanced up with interest from behind the kitchen counter. Taking a quick swig of the water, he wiped his mouth and padded to the door, wearing loose-fitting gray linen drawstring pants, a black T-shirt, and bare feet.

Kendall was crouched outside the door, frantically searching the recently rain-washed pavement for something. "Hey," Zach drawled, expecting a response from her corresponding to the pleasure he felt at her return home, "I'm up here." But when she looked up at him silently, her eyes were wide and troubled and unfocused. When he instinctively began to ease himself down to her level, he finally elicited a reply.

"Don't do that, Zach, you might hurt yourself!" Kendall quickly rose to her feet, brushing her hands against each other. "Ugh! What a time to drop my key. The ground's all wet and I can't see a thing." At last her gaze fell upon and enveloped him, and as it did the pitch of her voice lowered, the stress in her eyes evaporated. She added in a whisper, "Except for you."

A second later Kendall was swept into his arms, and they hugged wordlessly and tightly as if they'd been parted for days instead of hours, because that was what it suddenly felt like to Zach. "God, I missed you," he said, resting his cheek against the top of her head and uncaring that his unreserved display of emotion exposed his feelings so utterly. Such displays were getting easier all the time. Holding back would have been pointless and self-defeating. He wanted Kendall to know exactly how he felt. At the moment he was unable to show her in any other way.

He could tell something was wrong, though. Something more urgent than a lost key easily located in the morning was preying on her mind. Renewed tension in Kendall's body was communicating itself to him along his nerve endings. Drawing her inside, Zach kicked the door shut behind them with his foot. Kendall remained rather passive as he unbuttoned her coat, removed and tossed it on the sofa, and walked her into the bedroom with him. There he sat her down on the bed and slowly sat beside her, disguising his wince with a clearing of his throat.

"Lay it on me," he encouraged. "What happened tonight?"

"I don't even know where to begin," Kendall began, rubbing her hands along her arms. "The important thing is Miranda's still doing okay. I should leave it at that and just go pour myself a double vodka martini—you want one? Oh, never mind, you're not supposed to combine alcohol with the drug you're taking, and it's a moot point anyway because I don't even have vodka in the house. Or vermouth either, for that matter." She stood up in an attitude of indecision. "Do you mind if I have a small glass of wine, though? I could really use one. And come to think of it, Zach, have you eaten anything lately? I haven't and I'm starving. What do we have in the house? I'll eat just about anything, except cheese crackers—don't ask. But you know, maybe I should—"

"Whoa. _Slow down_." Zach reached up and placed his fingers across her mouth. "Tell me what has you so worked up."

Kendall removed his fingers, holding them out as if for her inspection. "Don't tempt me, Zach. If you want me to say you taste good, I will, and I can think of plenty of things you can do with these fingers, it's just that right now they don't count as food." But the look accompanying Kendall's flirtatious statement was more a distracted than a passionate one.

That was love; love required patience. Love required understanding. Above all love required the ability and the willingness to listen and keep your mouth shut until your evasive loved one was ready to spit out whatever was bothering her, and sometimes it was possible to facilitate the process, if not move the discussion into a more productive channel. Zach rose to his feet and easily pulled her back into his arms.

"I'm hungry, too—but not for food," he said decidedly, then tilted Kendall's face up to his. "I had groceries delivered while you were gone. Unfortunately, what I want I can't have at the moment. But if there's anything I can do to relieve your…hunger—?" His fingers descended along the line of her chin and throat and splayed across her breastbone.

The intrigued expression instantly flickering in her eyes let Zach know that Kendall intuited his meaning. Her eyes briefly closed and her breath came faster and his own did too. But then she took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and moved his hand to the top of her shoulder. "Oh, god, Zach, you know there is nothing I would like more," she said fervently, "except it wouldn't be fair, and…and…."

His hand traveled over her shoulder, down her spine, then back up. "Fell how tense you are, Kendall. Unless you tell me, I don't know why. I can only try to alleviate it."

Leaning her head against his chest, Kendall sighed and the dam seemed to burst. "I know but I still can't seem to help being in a total dither even so, Zach! Ryan was _such_ an ass tonight. And get this—as many times as I've driven to and from the hospital in the past week, can you believe I got lost coming home? I took a wrong turn, and on top of that, my car got stuck in some mud and then my cell phone wouldn't pick up a signal!" She leaned back and looked up at him woefully.

"I thought I had problems," Zach commented dryly. Inside, his guts were churning as his mind's eye viewed the dark underside of the images Kendall's indignant recital conjured up. But that he needed to keep to himself, for it could do her no good now. _She's all right, she's all right_, he repeated to himself, _nothing happened,_ _she's not hurt, she got home, she got home safely._

"Oh, well, gee, I'm glad if you think it was funny," Kendall was sniffing. "But you wanted to know, and I wasn't laughing about any of it. If you really want to know the truth, I was scared shitless!"

_Fuck. _"Do you think the possibility of anything happening to you when I'm not there doesn't scare me shitless too?" he asked intently.

She exhaled and, under his hand that was still roaming her shoulders and back, he could feel her relax slightly. "It does? Does it really?" she asked interestedly.

"More than I can say." That was the literal truth. He could only express it through the meaning of the heartfelt tone of his voice, the emotion in his eyes, the pressure of his touch.

She relaxed a little more. "I'm so tired—I don't think I know what I'm doing or saying. I didn't mean to go off on you, Zach. Or scare you."

"I'm not in the habit of expressing fear," he admitted unnecessarily. "Words have power. I've always avoided giving it to them."

"_No kidding_! _You_—a _clam_? Since when?" Kendall exclaimed, adding more softly, "Come on, Zach—tell me something I _don't_ know about you."

"I prefer not to worry you with my worries. But," he admitted again, "I've become resigned to the fact there is nothing you won't eventually pry out of me."

"_Mmm_." Kendall arched against his hand massaging the small of her back. "Just try and stop me."

Zach felt his lips curve up into a grin at her irrepressibility. "A challenge? You'll always win that one."

"It works both ways." Her gaze fixed on his then, growing more serious. "Why do you think I was stalling telling you what happened tonight?—because I knew it _would_ worry you. And see how fast you got me to spill anyway?"

"A far lesser feat," he scoffed.

"Okay," she confessed, "You got me. Maybe I partially even kind of wanted you to be worried about me, Zach. After all I've been through it's good for my tattered ego to think I can make my big, strong, handsome, sexy fiancé lose at least a little sleep over me."

Zach took a moment to assimilate Kendall's nonchalantly delivered, but stirring to him, admission. "And he's waiting for you to spill what Lavery was an ass about and how you got home if your car was stuck."

Quickly Kendall replied, "Oh, just the same old crap about you from Ryan."

"But I have a feeling there's more," he prodded.

"Well…Ryan was making noises about Miranda's custody again," she told Zach unhappily.

"Lavery can't make anything but an empty threat. They already dropped their motion. If they reinstate it now Livia will be all over them." Of the latter point, Zach was certain. Of the rest, he was only disappointed in himself for not considering the real possibility the Laverys might try to pull a fast one on Kendall.

"I just can't think about it any more tonight, Zach. I'll scare _myself_."

"We'll talk to Livia in the morning and make sure Lavery's pissing in the wind," he replied reassuringly. "Okay?" His hands traveled back to her shoulders, with his thumbs on the muscles on either side of her neck. Slowly, he kneaded them and was gratified to feel their tautness diminish beneath the stimulus of his small circular motions.

"_Ohh_." Her head tipped back. "That…feels really nice. Ryan…Ryan who?"

"See? We'll keep working out the kinks. Don't lose any sleep over it."

"Sleep, Zach?" Kendall finally glanced at him from under her lashes. "Were we planning to get any sleep?"

"I'll do my best to make you sleepy. I expect to stay awake." His tone was both tender and rueful. The spirit was so willing but his flesh still weak—and sore—from surgery.

Signaling her pleasure in his continued stroking, Kendall closed her eyes again. "If you're sleepless, then I will be too. We could play—what's that game?—pinochle to pass the time."

"Cards with a professional gambler? That won't be entertaining for either for us," he pointed out.

"It might if you let me win a game once in awhile."

Zach's hands edged a little lower. "Do you think I can't entertain you better than that?"

Rousing herself to lean forward and bracing herself against his arms, Kendall brushed her lips along his cheek with the lightest of touches. "Of course," she whispered close to his ear, "it's just that it's more fun when we…hit the jackpot together. Mmm, way more fun."

"Of course," he echoed, his head turned so that his lips were almost touching hers, "but I'll still be in the game. So are you sure?"

"Well…," she hesitated, almost breathless just from the thought of what Zach was merely implying. It was that easy for her to be swayed to passion by him, and they both knew it. What woman in her right mind would continue to rebuff a man so finely attuned to her needs, so flatteringly eager to fulfill them, and so exceptionally good at it? It would be only a brief respite. Besides, what else, exactly, could be done to solve any of her problems tonight?

Turning her head so that her lips finally met Zach's, Kendall ensured her capitulatory kiss was inevitable. Molding the rest of her body against his as their lips joined, she yielded completely to the infinitely more enjoyable tension he evoked in her than the nerve-knotting kind she'd arrived home with. Grasping one of his caressing hands in one of hers, she moved it to a spot between her shoulder blades, above the pull-tab of her dress's zipper.

A moment later the clammy material slithered down over her slender form. Kendall reciprocated by pulling Zach's T-shirt up over his arms and head.

"Hey," he said, looking down in half-hearted protest when she was done, "this is supposed to be for you."

"And you are for me," she agreed provocatively, "all for me, Zach."

Although he tried to stay her hands when she plucked at his pants' drawstring, she was faster, loosening the waistband and pulling the pants down. But at the same time they joined the other clothes on the floor, Kendall realized a large gauze bandage was taped over each side of Zach's pelvic bone. Deep purplish bruising extended out from under the bandages' white edges.

As the reality of Zach's situation, of their situation, struck her with renewed force, she stepped back, sucking in her breath. "Oh, Jesus Christ, Zach. You look like you've been kicked by a mule. God, how stupid am I?" she moaned, clapping a hand to her forehead in consternation. "I never realized you'd be all—all beaten up like that."

"This? Beaten up?" He gave a short laugh. "Not even close."

She shook her head. "Bullshit, Zach! That looks awful—it must _hurt_."

"I'm on painkillers. And making you feel better will make me feel better, too. I want to be close to you."

"I want to be close to you too, but…." Feeling terribly conflicted, Kendall let her words trail off.

"Then do," he said simply.

"How much pain are you in right now?"

He shrugged. "There are different kinds of pain. This is the kind that doesn't matter."

"Oh, please. It matters to me if I hurt you, Zach! Wait a minute—are we really arguing about this?" she found herself asking in confusion.

"No argument, Kendall. Just come back here. Because sprinting after you—_that_ might hurt." He flashed one of his infrequent grins.

"I'll try to be very careful." Kendall reapproached him, more solicitously than she was used to, and slid her arms up around his neck with a light touch. "If I'm not, you'll let me know."

Gazing down at her, Zach said, "That's too careful."

"Okay." She pressed closer. Lifting her face, she kissed him again. "How's that?"

In response his arms enveloped her, and he returned the kiss with a return of the passion she'd interrupted. At the same time she welcomed it, Kendall was still sensitive to the evidence of his recent ordeal and unable to shake her awareness of it. She was the one who concluded the kiss, staring expectantly up into his face, trying to gauge how he might react to her turning the tables on him.

"I know that look, Kendall. You're up to something," he accused lightly.

"Bingo, Zach. You see—there's been a change in plans," she announced with an impudent glint in her blue eyes. "Your macho protestations to the contrary, _you're_ the real patient here, not I. Which means we're about to shift this scene into reverse. You're not going to take care of me—I'm going to take care of you."

She almost flushed at the look Zach stopped her with. "Save it for another time, Kendall. You've taken care of me long enough—"

"And I'm not finished!" she interrupted him determinedly. "Now listen to me. You need to take it easy. I want you to lie down on the bed and position yourself as comfortably you can. I've got some really nice almond-scented massage oil. I just need to warm it up a little."

Sounding amused, Zach said, "Sounds fragrant, but no, you don't. I've been taking it easy since I got to the hospital yesterday. However," he gave her nearly naked figure a smoldering once-over, "if the female Pine Valley Hospital personnel dressed like you I'd still be at the hospital."

Eying him back, Kendall responded insouciantly. "Oh, yeah? And if they got a peek at you the way you look now, they'd have kept you there but that would've been too bad for you, because not one of them can give you the treatment I plan to give to you."

Zach cocked his head to the side. "Do you know what, Kendall?"

Her heart began to pound harder. "No, what?"

"I love you."

She let herself bask in the glow of his unexpected words. "Well, I love you, Zach."

Again they kissed, a mutual, involuntary reaching toward each other. Kendall melted into him like a cat stretching toward its favorite spot in the sun, while Zach caressed her with growing abandon. "Your skin still feels chilled," he murmured.

"You're been heating me up, though. You're like a human furnace."

He smoothed her riotous curls away from her face. "Your hair's still damp."

"I thought I'd take a hot shower after I got home. After I had something to eat," she explained. "Somebody else seemed to have other ideas. But after the first part of my night—oh, Zach, this feels like heaven."

"Why not end this standoff with a shower now?" he suggested. "We're dressed for it."

"Can you? I mean with your bandages—is it okay to get them wet?"

"They can come off now. But remember," he paused, "what's under them isn't pretty."

Kendall bit her lip. "They're your war wounds in the fight for Miranda's life, Zach. I'll always remember that."

They exchanged a glance and he stroked her hair again.

"So shower, and then fix something to eat?" Kendall asked hopefully. "I am talking about actual food, Zach. Don't forget, I'm starving. I only had a cup of tea at Father Clarence's."

Zach frowned. "Where?"

"Oh—my car got stuck in the mud behind a church of all places, the Catholic church on the east side of town. I sort of already knew this priest there—Father Clarence. In fact, he knew Bianca too. He invited me in out of the rain. No," she amended, "he _ordered_ me, is more like it. I felt as if I didn't have any choice."

"What kind of priest is that? I thought they preferred little boys," Zach said cynically.

"_Zach_!" Kendall smothered a horrified laugh. "No, this priest may be strange in his own way, but I've never picked up any pervert vibes from him."

"No? I still don't like the sound of it, Kendall. How did this priest know Bianca?" Zach probed.

"That's the weird thing about it. We each ended up at his chapel on Christmas Eve, only a year apart. For Bianca it was when she was pregnant and trying to decide whether to keep Miranda. For me it was the night before—before Bianca got Miranda back," Kendall remembered.

"Then I stand corrected. This priest has a predilection for women—Kane women, to be precise. Bianca, Miranda, and you, Kendall." Zach's voice sounded questioning.

"Whatever it is, he seems to feel entitled to interfere in my life," she sighed. "It's annoying, Zach, but he did help Bianca before. I do think he must be harmless. I simply wasn't in the mood to deal with him last night, not after getting it into it with Ryan."

"Ah. Lavery." Zach's tone was still full of disgust.

Kendall sighed again. "Yeah. But can we not talk about him now? Let's let him be known, until further notice, as Ryan who."

"All right, Kendall. No more talk of interfering priests or Laverys. This night is for you."

"_And_ you," she said stubbornly. "We'll just see who wins this standoff."

Smiling, Zach asked, "Do you think there will be any losers?"


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter Forty-Eight**

_Buzzzzzz!_

"Shit!" Kendall swore under her breath, simultaneously reaching for the off button on her alarm clock before it might awaken Zach. She'd meant to switch off the clock in advance. For some time she'd been awake, lying contentedly beside his solid form, enjoying the low steady hum of his heavy slumber, wishing the gray light of dawn wasn't so relentlessly filling the room. But the clock's buzz made if official: It was morning.

Looking over her shoulder as she crept from the bed, she was relieved to see he still slept. Quietly grabbing some clothes and underwear on the way, Kendall went into the bathroom, hoping she would not disturb Zach. If she had anything to say about it, he was going to spend the day resting in bed—and if Zach were awake, she knew she wouldn't have final say in the matter.

_Just like I didn't last night. But oh…I'm not complaining, big boy_, Kendall purred to herself as she finished her quick shower. _I should let you have the last word more often. _

Only that was then and this was now, facing a new day full of old problems from which their blissful interlude of intimacy would be forced to recede. Kendall began the process by forcing herself to examine how things currently stood in the outside world. _Today is Miranda's last day of chemo. Tomorrow she gets Zach's bone marrow._ _I need to talk to Livia about Ryan's threat. I wonder if Greenlee knows about it. She might have other ideas. I hope._

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, Kendall wished she could risk making coffee and fixing something to eat. Her stomach was already grumbling. But Zach remained asleep, and she wanted him to stay that way. Another hospital cafeteria breakfast wouldn't kill her. She'd become immune to rubber eggs and cardboard toast.

_Z—Take it easy! You needed your rest so I didn't wake you. Will call you from the hospital later—will also call Livia. Love, K_, she scribbled on the notepad by the phone. Already missing him as she blew a kiss behind her, Kendall was striding through the courtyard outside a few seconds later.

With a mighty bodily stretch, immediately followed by a string of curses as the sore muscles in his lower body protested the move, Zach's state changed from one of short-lived lassitude to one of pained, full alertness. Instantly, his senses told him that Kendall was gone, confirmed in writing by the note he found upon dragging himself into the kitchen for a hit of caffeine.

Kendall's note generated mixed feelings. While he certainly wasn't opposed to Kendall's seizing the upper hand—especially as she had such a captivating knack for it—he was quite loathe to be treated as a helpless invalid indefinitely. Not that she'd treated him that way last night, Zach recalled in satisfaction. And considering the way his fist itched to deliver a smackdown to Lavery's jaw, steering clear of the situation, and of Lavery himself, was undoubtedly the wisest course for the time being, for all of them.

Even if his body spent some time on the phone with Edie at the casino, even if it limped across the courtyard and spent as much time as he could tolerate in his present condition seated before the computer, wading through countless emails and paperwork and reports piling up and neglected, Zach knew his mind—and his heart—would be present with Kendall and Miranda at the hospital.

Suddenly, he scowled. It was galling to stay away, for whatever reason—especially galling since he still hadn't accomplished the thing he'd set out to do more than a week before. Its urgency preyed on his mind with redoubled vigor after what Kendall had told him last night about Lavery. As he aimed water into the coffeemaker, his thoughts surged too.

_Kendall, _Zach mentally addressed her in absentia,_ let's figure out getting married. What we have now is inadequate for Miranda's custody and inadequate protection for you. If we delay this much longer it could backfire. We can't take a chance any family court judge we draw won't be a stickler for details. _

But he could already hear her objections about returning to Virginia for the ceremony before the courthouse closed today. _You can't drive that far yet, Zach. You know I hate driving your car and your ass is too sore to squeeze into mine. Besides, we need to stick close to home now since Miranda gets the transplant tomorrow._

All valid concerns Zach conceded he shared to a greater or lesser degree. Some had simple solutions. Hiring a limo—a helicopter, for that matter—solved the transportation problem. Timing was everything, though. Maybe in his condition it had been folly to attempt it, but it was too damn bad he'd allowed his most recent attempt to whisk Kendall off to Virginia to be nipped in the bud by his intended. It seemed the window of opportunity had snapped shut for the moment, unless he managed to abduct her from the hospital in the next few minutes so that they could be home, married, before nightfall.

_Lavery would enjoy that spectacle_, Zach thought dourly, _and clue Little Chandler in_.

But going by his previous history with Kendall, the so-called immovable object only ever succeeded in overcoming the irresistible force with her cooperation. Then there was that slight problem of his current physical incapacitation—the reason Zach was eating breakfast standing up. Pausing in his meditations to saw a sesame seed bagel in half and spread both halves with cream cheese, he thoughtfully begin to chew—with a regretful nod to the sophistication and skill of his chef at the Seasons.

As far as Zach could reckon, yesterday had been his and Kendall's last opportunity to marry until after Miranda was, hopefully and finally, on the last leg of the road to recovery. The two of them going away now before Miranda's imminent transplant, he reasoned, wouldn't look good. Deserting her even briefly for the inherently self-interested purpose of marriage could just as easily be used as ammunition against them as evidence of their dedication to raising their niece together in a secure and stable environment.

_We're balancing on a pretty thin rope._ _What other options have we got?_ Zach asked himself as he poured coffee into a mug, drinking the strong black brew without much tasting it. Prior to the first aborted wedding trip, Edie had provided him with a comprehensive report of state marriage requirements. The Commonwealth of Pennsylvania's three-day waiting period put it out of the running for a quickie wedding. Now, it might be all they had to work with. As impatient as Zach was to make things legal with Kendall before Ryan could pull a last-minute stunt, he recalled his own counsel to Kendall regarding Junior's blackmail attempt: The wheels of justice didn't turn that fast.

_So…. _Zach scrolled down the mental checklist of things he intended to do today: Swing by the hospital to check on Miranda and collect Kendall for a swift trip to the local courthouse to apply together for a license. He wasn't in such bad shape he couldn't manage that; but he knew a way to forestall any arguments on that score. Returning to the bedroom for his cell phone, Zach scrolled through the directory display and clicked "send" on the number of the discreet limousine service he personally relied on to ensure that inebriated high rollers made it home safely from a well-lubricated night at the Seasons East. He and Kendall would ride to the courthouse in style.

A return trip to court in three more days' time, and they could be husband and wife without stepping foot out of Pine Valley. At the very least, it was a backup plan, if nothing better panned out.

_Sorry, Edie,_ Zach silently apologized to his second-in-command as he returned to the bedroom to prepare for the day ahead, _no time to call you now after all. Good thing you can read my mind. Just keep holding down the fort._

At the hospital, Kendall was sitting in the waiting room, wishing the seats were less uncomfortable and the magazines more current, as she gloomily paged through an old issue of _Tempo_, jumping each time the door opened. Although several other people populated the room, there'd been no sign of Greenlee or Ryan since she'd arrived, though, and she'd been unable to reach Livia, in conference with a client when Kendall called her. In her defenseless state during the lengthy chemotherapy infusion, Miranda remained off limits.

Like a shaft of sunlight parting a cloud, a bright glimmer shooting up from her ring finger drew Kendall's abstracted attention to her hand. The square fluorescent panel in the suspended ceiling above was mirrored in the winking facets of her engagement ring's eye-popping central gem. Absentmindedly experimenting with the shimmering effect returned Kendall's mind to the day Zach had given her the ring, that unanticipated defining moment in their relationship. The ring was now so much a part of her, just as its presenter was, yet its icy brilliance was never a substitute for Zach's warm, invigorating presence.

Kendall sighed to herself, missing him further. It wasn't that she couldn't cope with on her own. She'd been doing that her whole life; not always constructively or wisely, it was true. It was just her nature to barrel forward without checking conditions first, neither looking beyond the end of her nose, nor glancing to right or left either, before leaping blindly into space. Seldom had there been anyone waiting to break her fall before she landed in trouble…or whose strength she trusted to fully bear the weight of her psyche if he did catch her.

_I always knew Zach was that tough. I could see it the first time I met him, when Ryan and I went to Vegas to spring Mother from the drink clink. Not even the great Erica Kane stood a chance against Zach once he decided to toss her in there. He saw to it she got help. But not even he…oh, Mother, not even Zach could help you when_…. Kendall rubbed her eyes as they filled with sudden tears, for she didn't have the luxury of tears now. _Oh, Mother,_ _I can't remember a time any more when I wasn't fighting for Miranda._ _When will all this be _over _When will I get a chance to mourn _you_…to mourn you and Bianca…god, I can't even remember what Myrtle and Opal are supposed to be doing about your memorial service! _

The tears she tried to hold back had other ideas. One second Kendall had been feeling dispirited, bored, and lonely. The next second she was struggling to avoid being swept into an emotional squall, a squall whose development from the conjunction of those atmospheric conditions was too rapid to see coming until it was about to hit, and then it was too late to duck. But if tears were the inescapable outcome—and one more thing Kendall couldn't remember was the last time she had had a good cry—she refused to shed them in public. She stumbled to her feet.

"Still flaunting that tacky chunk of glass? Too bad."

"J–J.R.!" she stammered, blinking at the unexpected sight of him across the aisle. "I didn't see you."

"You better shield your eyes from that thing, Kendall. The glare'll burn out your retinas."

"Where did you come from? Are you spying on me again?" she countered hotly, almost relieved as anger temporarily began to crowd out sorrow.

"I'm just trying to start a conversation, Kendall. Little Adam has a checkup with his pediatrician. I just happened to glance in here as we passed by on our way to his office. Thought I'd stop in and we could catch up."

"Really? Then where are you hiding little Adam?" she demanded, making a show of peeking behind J.R.'s back. "Or is he just as transparent as your motives?"

"Little Adam's with his nanny, of course," J.R. replied smoothly. "I came back without him."

With every fiber of willpower she possessed, Kendall resisted the urge to smack the egotistical expression from his face. "Why? Did you really think I'd want to see you? Or to finally ask me how Miranda is, after all this time? Don't even bother, J.R. We both know you don't give a shit about what happens to her now."

"Tsk, tsk, language," he scolded. "Good thing this conversation _is_ adults only, huh? So come on, Kendall, let's kiss and make up. You and I used to be friends. I'd like us to be friends again," J.R.'s voice rang with false sincerity.

"Blackmail is such a good basis for friendship." Kendall began to inch away from him. "So let's be friends again sometime in the next century, maybe. Now if you won't leave—I will."

"Whoa, Kendall, not so fast, I'm not done." To her chagrin, J.R. grabbed her hand before she could escape, focusing on her ring finger. "Hey, look at this—still no cigar band next to this oh so hypnotic sparkler. No room for it next to the Hope diamond—maybe because the shacking up was only for show?"

Flushing angrily, Kendall jerked her hand from his grasp. "For god's sake, J.R., when did you turn into such a pig? Zach and I've been here day and night because of Miranda, and Zach had surgery the other day too. We haven't had time to—"

"Slater went under the knife? Hmm, can I guess what for?" J.R. interrupted in feigned concern, finishing crudely, "No, you already have him by the balls so it can't be for that. Wait, I got it—a heart implant. Spelled H-A-R-T, that is—gotta make sure he's got you permanently planted up his ass."

"Just shut up—shut _up_—!" Kendall hissed, looking around the room agitatedly. "We're not the only ones in here—Jesus Christ, people are listening to this!"

"Kendall's right. That was pretty gross, J.R." Greenlee and Ryan stood in the doorway, looking on, and then Greenlee approached them, accompanied by her husband. "It wasn't very nice, either."

As she did so, with the door swinging shut behind her and providing a backdrop, Kendall registered that the other girl was wearing a high-waisted, loose-fitting, tiny-floral pattern dress that was apparently supposed to mimic a maternity outfit, and carrying a carton of milk and a stack of parenting magazines. _God, she looks silly_, ran through Kendall's mind, _but she's kind of endearing in her mother mania as long as she keeps her hands off Miranda…and did she actually just _defend _me?_

Beside Greenlee, Ryan wore what Kendall had come to regard as his natural frown, which she was surprised and gratified to see for once was directed at J.R. instead of at her. The quicksand fluctuating beneath her feet began to feel marginally more solid. But then she felt dangerously close to breaking out in hysterical laughter at J.R.'s astonishment when Ryan warned, "Be careful what you say in front of my wife and child, J.R."

"Ryan and I are working on creating a positive, soothing, tranquil environment for our baby. Our child is simply not allowed to listen to profanities, obscenities, or any crude language indicating conflict or negativity, in utero," Greenlee piped up, and Kendall realized they weren't defending her, after all, but a concealed collection of cells possibly the size of her pinkie. Still…whatever it took to shut J.R. up.

He, however, still wasn't through. "You guys do know Kendall and Slater are playing you for a couple of suckers, don't you?" he asked with more feigned sincerity.

Knotting her forehead, Greenlee asked Ryan, "Honey, should that word even be on our allow list?"

"No! It shouldn't!" Kendall exclaimed, feeling everyone stare at her. "I mean—nothing J.R. says should, not while he's being this poisonous. But look, if you're planning to stay for awhile, I'm going to go outside and make some phone calls and you can take it up with him all you want."

Before he even entered the hospital waiting room, the sound of insistent voices penetrating the thin barrier of the door attracted Zach's notice. Stepping to the side, to prevent those within from seeing him yet still have a view through the rectangular glass insert above the door handle, he watched and listened attentively for a few seconds. The sound was muffled; impossible to discern the speakers' words, and his view was partially obstructed. But he participants were readily identifiable from a certain angle.

With the Laverys as interested bystanders, Kendall appeared to be facing off against Junior Chandler, the latter almost as if magically produced by Zach's earlier recollection of his existence. _Little prick_, Zach thought dismissively, _never gets the message._ As he pushed open the door, the discussion he was about to interrupt reached his ears more clearly.

"So who you got on your speed dial these days, Kendall? Would that be your, uh, wedding planner and caterer and minister?" J.R. was cracking, apparently amusing only himself, judging from Kendall's harried expression and the Laverys' affronted silence.

None of them had yet detected Zach standing there.

"Here I am, honey," he announced with an affectionate smile for the startled Kendall, a smile that then transformed into a mocking one as he turned it on J.R. Striding toward them purposefully, any lingering physical discomfort instantly vanishing in his enjoyment of the scene, Zach drawled, "The wedding planner, in person. At your service."


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter Forty-Nine**

"Zach!" Kendall cried, her face a mask of surprise dissolving into delight quickly edged with worry. But now the ground was solid as granite. It was she who was floating above it when he went to her and kissed her, a kiss for both public and private consumption. After participating in it with appreciation, she protested for form's sake when it was over. "But you're not supposed to be out of bed yet!"

He grinned imperturbably. "Spent enough time there by myself this morning."

"Oh, too much information." J.R. rolled his eyes at no one in particular.

"He healed the sick. For his next trick he'll walk on water," Ryan muttered, also to no one in particular.

Determinedly, Greenlee declared in a rush, "Kendall said she told you our news, Zach, and she passed along what she said were your congratulations, but since it was Kendall there's always the chance she really didn't, you really didn't, and she thought I'd never find out. So just in case she was situationally fibbing about that, I want to make sure you know that Ryan and I are pregnant!"

"Jesus, Greenlee, why don't you just take an ad out in the paper. I _did_ tell Zach!" Kendall protested in an aggrieved undertone.

When Zach's gaze went from her to Greenlee, the impressive smile on his handsome face made Kendall's own knees weak. "That's right, Greenlee," he assured her. "Kendall gave me your wonderful news. May I reiterate my congratulations, also in person?"

"Of course you may," Greenlee beamed. "We're trying to foster a healthy and positive environment for our baby to experience in advance of its arrival. Congratulations are very affirmational for our little one's self-esteem."

Zach went so far as to kiss the proud expectant mother lightly on the cheek, and Kendall had to admit Greenlee was rather lovable, if equal parts annoying, at that moment.

"What a lucky child to be so cared for already," he said to her softly and with sincerity. He then straightened and, to Kendall's surprise, extended his right hand to Ryan, with a hearty, "Congratulations, Lavery."

A few seconds of suspense ensued before Ryan accepted and returned, if grudgingly, the firm handshake, with a slightly louder than muttered, "Thanks, Slater."

Only partially turning again to Kendall, his body language suggesting he was giving the Laverys a say in the outcome, Zach asked her, "Can you take a break? We have a marriage license to pick up this morning."

_Marriage license?_ Kendall stared blankly at Zach, her mind frantically scrolling through the recent discussions they'd had on the subject, recalling not even a hint of any such previous arrangement for the day. "We do?" From the corner of her eye, she caught J.R.'s face contorting into a knowing sneer, and amended hastily, jumping in with both feet on ground that felt reassuringly rock-solid now she shared it with Zach. "Oh, I mean, we _do_! Sorry—all this talk about Greenlee and Ryan's baby is so exciting I'm getting things jumbled up, but I—I was just about to call you about it, Zach, to, er, remind you. Your timing is perfect." _More perfect than he realizes._

Zach shot her a look of approval, but J.R. snorted skeptically. "Perfect timing. Yeah, right. What happened to he was supposed to be in bed?"

"You heard what Kendall said, J.R.," Greenlee said primly. "Our baby is a new little soul, a growing, flourishing life absorbing all the influences around it, and that's far more important than getting a piece of paper at the courthouse. So please don't forget what _I_ said about maintaining a nurturing, positive, beneficial atmosphere around little Ryan Jackson or Bianca Erica."

"You're absolutely right, Greenlee," Kendall agreed. "Of course it is, and when Zach and I are married, the atmosphere around us will be even more positive for your baby. So if you can stand by here for Miranda, just long enough for us to go apply for the license—?"

"Okay with you, Lavery?" Zach asked Ryan, almost deferentially.

But as Kendall watched, the veins in the other man's neck swelled visibly. "Unfortunately I have no control over what you do, Slater. I'd say Kendall is making a big mistake, except what else is new—"

"Mr. Slater! You appear to be making a fine recovery from your surgery! How are you?" The voice of Doctor Joe Martin preceded him from one of the interior doors in the waiting room as he came into view and toward them.

This time Zach was on the receiving end of a handshake, which he returned with equally visible feeling. "Never felt better," he answered modestly. "How's Miranda?"

"Miranda is still holding her own, I'm happy to say, and the transplant your surgery made possible is still scheduled for first thing tomorrow morning. Kendall, Greenlee, Ryan, J.R.," Joe added, courteously greeting each person in the small group.

"Of course Zach is fine, Doctor Martin," Greenlee airily dismissed the matter. "Just look at him; he's a big strong man. The more immediate issue now is my baby and for how long a duration I should subject him or her to the often negative emotional climate of a hospital setting, especially since I myself am suffering from morning sickness which is bad enough, but let's face it, Doctor Martin, the ladies' rooms here aren't exactly temples of luxury. And the vending machines aren't very comprehensively stocked, either."

Replied the doctor long-sufferingly, "Well, Greenlee, it's a good thing for Miranda Mr. Slater is strong. As far as amenities are concerned, we do our best to balance everyone's interests with the resources we have. Assuming you intend to give birth in a hospital, it's only wise to desensitize your little one in advance to any discomfort being here incurs, don't you think?"

"It's not necessary to patronize my wife, Joe," Ryan said coolly. "After seeing what Miranda is going through, naturally she's concerned about the immediate welfare of our unborn child. We both are."

Joe sounded a little irritable. "I'm certainly not patronizing Greenlee, Ryan, simply attempting to reassure her she won't come to any more harm here than she would anyplace else she might go. In fact, your child is currently in the safest surroundings it could possibly be in."

Greenlee's eccentric—even for her, lately—behavior had suddenly become clearer to Kendall. Perhaps it should have been clearer all along that the ostentatious, all-consuming overprotectveness were associated with the guilt Greenlee harbored over Miranda's illness. Meanwhile, apparently, despite Greenlee's inability or noninclination to handle more than one child at a time, despite the word they'd already gotten from Livia, Miranda's permanent custody remained in the balance, if Ryan still had anything to say about it. _And Zach and I aren't any closer to the courthouse then we were five minutes ago. _"Will you just _look_ at Greenlee?" Kendall suggested frantically to the group at large. "She's just _glowing_!"

"Am I? Am I really?" Greenlee asked eagerly.

Joe smiled kindly. "I would say you're on the high end of the scale."

Greenlee's tone was exultant. "See, Ryan! I told you I was already showing!"

"Greenlee, I don't think Joe meant—," Kendall began.

Raising his hands, Joe said, "Excuse me, folks, but some other time. I must be on my way. Do keep doing whatever you are doing so far, Greenlee, and you'll be fine. And Mr. Slater, I trust you'll keep following Doctor Rowan's orders relative to your surgery. Now I'll see you all back here in the morning."

Kendall plunged back in. "Greenlee, you'll be all right for a little while, won't you? You made it here, Ryan's with you, and I'll bring you back some peanut butter cheese crackers."

Greenlee looked stricken. "No way, Kendall! I can't _look_ at another package of those revolting things—please, are you deliberately trying to make me retch?"

"Slater probably put her up to it," J.R. said with a conspiratorial glance at Ryan.

To Kendall's relief, Ryan didn't appear particularly receptive to egging on by the younger man. "I'd appreciate your not making inappropriate jokes about my wife's condition, J.R.," he said stonily. "It's offensive."

"J.R. can't seem to help being offensive today," Kendall glared. Next to her Zach was keeping his mouth shut but she sensed his attentiveness.

As if in her own oblivious little world, Greenlee went on. "Well—now that you mention it—somebody did, right?—I _am_ hungry, just not for those—those disgusting glued-together fake orange squares. I am so _done_ with those. What I could really, really use are some licorice twists—"

"You want offensive, Kendall? Putting one over on"—J.R. nodded toward the Laverys—"them by pretending to marry"—he nodded toward Zach—"him is offensive. Offensive times two."

Zach smiled dangerously. "Is that so, Junior?"

"—and I didn't notice licorice twists in _any_ of the vending machines we passed on our way here, did you, Ryan? Oh, I wish Joe didn't leave yet, I needed to tell him he shouldn't let them waste one of their valuable slots—"

"I didn't notice either, honeybunch, but I wasn't looking for them in particular since I didn't know that's what you wanted," Ryan said fondly. "Do you want me to go back and double-check for you?"

J.R. shrugged. "Yeah, that's so, Slater. Talk about twisted, huh?"

"—on a snack like microwave popcorn—or Poptarts! In a minute, Ryan, let me finish—I mean, really, what is the _point_, it's not like we can _cook_ in the waiting room—"

Under her breath Kendall said, "Maybe not, but I'm almost at the boiling point." Feeling a reassuring touch at the small of her back, she looked up to see Zach almost boring holes into J.R. with the laser-like force of his contemptuous stare.

"No need for you to desert your wife, Lavery." Zach's commanding voice rose above everyone else's just loudly enough to silence them all. "Kendall and I will be happy to return with whatever you would like, Greenlee."

The reassuring touch turned into a more determined pressure. Kendall realized Zach was beginning to subtly guide her toward the door. "What kind of licorice do you want, Greenlee? Black or red?" she asked, capitalizing on Zach's exit strategy.

Greenlee's big brown eyes lit up. "Get me the black kind, please, Kendall! It helps settle my stomach better."

"Are you feeling nauseous again, sweetheart?" Ryan asked solicitously.

"_Her_? I'm the one who's about to puke," J.R. said before Greenlee could respond. "Come on, Ryan—don't tell me you're letting these two scammers pull the wool over your eyes?"

"What are you even doing here, J.R.?" Greenlee asked peevishly. "You are seriously interfering with my serenity and it's already at risk just by being here, but I won't let myself shirk my duty to Miranda. The only thing I can afford to focus on now is my baby—and Miranda, of course, so I want to do my share, but if I don't get some licorice—"

"We're on our way, Greenlee," Kendall said hastily, but anxiously watching Ryan. She knew Zach was waiting for Ryan to react to J.R.'s question too; he had halted their progress from the room, and the pressure at her back assumed a tenser quality.

J.R. guffawed, "So, Ryan, we all know Kendall is marrying Slater to con you out of custody of Miranda. Are you really going to stand by while they just go skating on down to the courthouse before even bothering to pick up your wife's little care package—"

"I understand you're upset because we didn't send you an invitation, Junior," Zach said calmly, "but it's to be a very small wedding."

Kendall wouldn't have thought it was possible for Ryan's expression to grow any more thunderous, but his brow was knitted together so tightly his eyes threatened to pop out from under it. "I've already said if Kendall is foolish enough to marry Slater, there's nothing I can do about it. My own wife comes first."

"But _Miranda_." The note of incredulity in J.R. voice matched the expression on his features. "Am I the only one who still has her best welfare at heart?"

"Oh, right, J.R., just like you have little Adam's best welfare at heart? So much so you traded him off to the nanny just now so you could come in here and taunt me?" Kendall challenged, unable to keep her temper from rising.

"Impeccable point," she alone heard Zach comment very softly.

"If it were up to me—," Ryan began ominously.

"But our baby comes first now and it just has to be that way, and Ryan knows it," Greenlee interrupted, "I know now my experience with Miranda was meant to be the perfect learning experience for having my own child and it taught me some important things about motherhood, such as humility, which of course my own mother hasn't got a single atom of so I certainly couldn't learn anything useful from _her_, but fortunately my own innate ability to process and utilize information is all I needed to know that one baby at a time is the maximum number for me."

"Greenlee," Kendall— unable to bear the suspense any longer—interjected as soon as Greenlee paused for breath, "I know that's what you told me the other day. And I know that's what your lawyer told our lawyer. But what I don't know is if Ryan is on the same page as the rest of you."

Greenlee smiled adoringly up at her husband, who appeared at a sudden loss for words, returning his wife's gaze rather than looking in Kendall's direction. "Ryan and I, and our baby, too, of course, will always be joined as _one_, Kendall," Greenlee spoke almost as exaltedly as a television preacher, "which means even though we might accidentally start reading the book in different places, we will always end _up_ on the same page, won't we, Ryan?"

Swallowing with perceptible discomfort, Ryan managed, "Yes."

"Okay," Kendall breathed. "I just needed to clarify that with both of you before Zach and I take off for awhile" Against the base of her spine, Kendall felt Zach's rigidly held hand relax, his fingers reflexively sending the discreet message along her sensitized spinal column: _Let's get out of here. _"We won't be gone for long. A day's supply of licorice twists, coming up, okay, Greenlee? As soon as we're through at the courthouse, that is."

"_Black_ licorice," the other girl emphasized. "Not red."

But J.R. had stepped before the door, either deliberately or inadvertently blocking their immediate egress, Kendall wasn't quite sure, until the folded arms across his chest made it clear the blockade was deliberate. Somehow projecting both plaintiveness and belligerence, he said, "You can drop the rushing-to-the-courthouse act, Kendall. You don't need to fool the family court judge by making it legal with Slater any longer. You've as good as got custody no matter what you do."

Ryan stared daggers straight ahead. "Unfortunately."

"Well, I'm forever grateful, Ryan. This is not an act, J.R.," Kendall replied in mounting frustration. "What do I have to do, tattoo it on my forehead in big block letters? _I'm marrying Zach. Because I want to._"

Zach moved to Kendall's side. "Just as I'm marrying Kendall because I want to."

Despite the mostly unappreciative audience, it was hard not to emulate Greenlee gazing worshipfully up at her man at that moment, and Kendall allowed herself a brief glimpse at Zach before she returned to J.R. "See? I'll spell it out even more for you. We're getting married and we're going to raise Miranda together. And in case anyone's forgotten what Joe said just now, Zach has been through a lot for her already. Hopefully, if we're all lucky, that's what'll save Miranda's lifetomorrow. Now will you please stop getting in my way?"

Zach nodded politely at J.R. "And mine too, Junior."

Glaring fiercely at the bigger man, J.R. rose up to his full height, the high crown of his spiky, brushed-up hair enhancing the impression he gave one of a fighting bantam cock with a bristling comb. The sheer desperation he exuded might have engaged Kendall's sympathy if his pugnacity hadn't become so aggravating.

"One last time, Kendall," J.R. pleaded. "Please. You listened to them. Now listen to me. Don't get hitched for life to this—this swindling piece of scum. He saved Miranda's life? Big freaking whoop. Give him a medal for it and move on. Don't marry hi—_ooph_!"

J.R. went suddenly sprawling away from the door, shoving against Ryan, who staggered backward from the blow as Greenlee gasped in alarm. Protesting, "Hey, man! Watch it," Ryan pushed J.R. upright, where he stood looking most discomfited.

"_You_!" J.R. sputtered.

"My humble apologies for not minding where I was going, young man!"

Steeped in the lilting cadences reminiscent a green and magical foreign shore, a genial, familiar voice unexpectedly filled Kendall's ears. "Father Clarence!" she exclaimed.


	50. Chapter 50

**Chapter Fifty**

"Miss Hart! _Enchanted_."

The portly old man attired in modest clerical garb greeted the flustered Kendall as deferentially as if she were his dignified sovereign queen. Yet Kendall found herself instinctively shrinking from his abrupt arrival. He seemed a specter determined to haunt her. But now, at least, he wasn't a specter only she could see.

"F-Father Clarence?" she managed.

Seemingly conscious of her agitation, the priest's ruddy cheeks plumped into a reassuring smile. He then removed his gaze from her startled face to that of the tall man standing beside her. For several seconds Father Clarence openly appraised Zach, who bore his scrutiny without a word. At length, as if satisfied by what he saw, the priest's head slowly swiveled back to Kendall. "Might I inquire, Miss Hart, if this fine gentleman is the betrothed of whom you spoke so fondly last night?"

In the background J.R. jibed, "Well, that's the _current_ one, anyway. Right, Kendall?"

"Damn it, J.R.—," Kendall began hotly.

"Zach Slater," Zach interrupted, both introducing and identifying himself, proffering his right hand to Father Clarence at the same time his left arm snaked around Kendall's waist, his hand coming to rest lightly above her hip. "A pleasure to meet you." The conventional pleasantry was almost—not quite—belied by the words' level inflection.

Appearing to take them at face value, Father Clarence shook Zach's hand. "Ah, Mr. Slater. A pleasure indeed."

"Yeah, it's a pleasure," J.R. growled, rubbing his upper arm. "A _real _pleasure _indeed_ to be assaulted by this sanctimonious old sneak thief."

Ignoring J.R. as Father Clarence had, Zach said to the priest, "My thanks for sheltering my stranded fiancée last night."

_No, Zach, no—don't encourage him. _To no avail,Kendall tried to telegraph a plea to Zach. Father Clarence seemed only too willing to continue the discussion.

"No thanks are necessary. 'Tis always an honor and a privilege to assist Miss Hart," the old man said, adding, "or any of her family."

J.R. let out a choked sound; Father Clarence smiled pityingly at him, and then thoughtfully regarded the entire group, as if only just realizing they were all together for some reason. "Is it intruding I am, then?"

"Isn't that what you do best, old man—sticking your nose in other people's business?" J.R. asked obnoxiously. "But I suppose Kendall had to line up a fake priest for her fake wedding, huh?"

"Did he say _priest,_ Ryan?" Greenlee stage-whispered. "You know, there's been so much going on that I haven't had a chance to mention it, but I've been meaning to bring up the subject…."

Meanwhile, Father Clarence's face was turning just a shade ruddier. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Chandler? Have I somehow given you cause to doubt my particulars?"

"Pay no attention to Junior," Zach interjected. "He confuses his impertinence for wit."

Ryan joined in. "You think J.R.'s the only offender in this room, Slater?"

"Right," J.R. agreed, "so keep your phony two cents out of this, Slater. Speaking of fake, I'm waiting to hear which one of your names gets to go on the dotted line of the marriage license. I want to know what to put after 'Mrs.'—wouldn't want my condolence note to Kendall on her marriage to get lost in the mail."

"J.R., butt out! I haven't lined Father Clarence up for anything!" Kendall interrupted indignantly, finally finding her voice despite Zach's cautioning pressure against her waist. "Not that it would be any of your goddamn business if I did."

"Watch your language and keep your voice down, Kendall," Ryan scolded. "Remember Greenlee's condition."

"_Me _remember it!" she cried, whirling on him. "Don't put this on me, Ryan! I was sitting here minding my own business when J.R. waltzed in and started in on me. Now he's starting on Zach just when Zach and I were trying to leave. And I _didn't_ invite Father Clarence. In fact," she turned to the priest, "what _are_ you doing here?"

The priest smiled again. "Merely making my rounds before I depart on my next journey, my very dear Miss Hart."

"Your rounds?" she repeated in confusion.

"Brief calls on certain members of my flock who might be in need of my, er, intervention, shall we say," he explained.

Kendall stared. "But—but I've logged almost as many hours in this place lately as that clock on the wall above your head. I've never even caught a glimpse of _you_ before."

"Pine Valley Hospital _is_ a large facility, Kendall," Ryan put in condescendingly.

J.R. sneered, "Eh. Not big enough, I'd say. But old Clarence, he seems to really get around."

The priest's gaze and voice fell benevolently upon J.R. "Precisely. I go where I'm most needed, young man."

"But—," Kendall began again. Yet what was there to protest? She couldn't fault Father Clarence's explanation for his presence: He was a clergyman; members of the clergy routinely visited hospitals. And with all of its memorial wings and specialized medicine centers, Pine Valley Hospital _was_ huge. She could easily have missed running into him.

So why was the back of her neck tingling in such a distracting way?

"…Ryan, are you listening to this? Let's talk to the priest while he's here," Greenlee pushed herself forward, her spectacular self-absorption erupting into a flood of words precluding anyone else getting another one in edgewise until she was done. "Father, um, Clarence?—like the angel in that movie, right?—well, as you can see"—she flaunted the roomy floral material perpendicularly draped against her midsection—"I'm Greenlee Lavery and this is my husband, Ryan, and we're expecting a baby, so we need to plan the details for our baby's naming ritual, and naturally we'll want the bishop or archbishop or cardinal—or whatever he is because I'm not really sure, but you know whom I mean—to conduct it at that big cathedral downtown, you know, the one with all those spires and stained glass windows. Can we go just ahead and put in a request through you now?"

"Congratulations to you and your husband, Mrs. Lavery," Father Clarence replied to her kindly, ignoring her remark about his name. "Why, such an important event warrants arrangement at a more exalted level than my own. Therefore, might I suggest you contact the diocesan administrative office for assistance?"

Greenlee looked crestfallen. "Oh, but Father Clarence, I really want to get moving on this, and I'm stuck here at the hospital for now. I won't have a chance to call them until after Kendall gets back, unless—unless, Kendall, you wait here while I go out and make a few phone calls."

Kendall stifled an urge to scream. "Please, Greenlee, you're not going to drop the baby _today_—you still have almost nine months to go!"

Greenlee's head snapped back on her neck, her chin jutted out, and the tendons in her neck visibly tightened. "Did you hear what Kendall said to me, Ryan?"

Attempting to stop Ryan mid-exhalation, Kendall was next stopped mid-exhalation herself when Zach said firmly, "Later, Greenlee. We're leaving for the courthouse now. Hold down the fort."

With an almost supernatural ease and economy of motion, Kendall found herself moving in concert with Zach toward the door, past the still smiling Father Clarence, leaving a startled Greenlee, Ryan still poised to speak, and a sulking J.R. in their wake. The last thing Kendall heard was Greenlee calling after her, "_Black_ licorice, Kendall! Don't forget!"

Farther down the corridor to the elevator lobby, an elevator door was sliding open. Kendall gave in to the impulse to sprint forward to catch it, eager to make good their escape before they could be delayed again. With his longer stride, Zach got there first, holding the door for her as Kendall dove inside, delighted to see that the elevator was unoccupied. The door slid shut behind them just as Zach dove in behind her. For a few fleeting moments, at least, they were alone, cocooned in blissful, stainless steel-protected, silence.

Heedless of anything else, Kendall threw herself into Zach's arms, sighing as they surrounded her and pressed her against him. "Oh, god, Zach, I was never so glad to see anyone! If I have to tiptoe through many more minefields like that I'm going to twist both my ankles into pretzels, before getting blown into smithereens," she moaned upon his chest, taking full advantage of the support it provided.

"Not with me as your look-out. So you can do it, Kendall," Zach said quietly, lightly stroking her hair, "and you will do it, until Miranda is legally yours." His intense expression softened until he looked boyish, so boyishly appealing and irresistible that Kendall spontaneously wound her arms around his neck, brought his face to hers, and kissed him, the kiss begging to be delivered ever since Zach had walked into the waiting room. _Thank god I have you._ _I need you so much. I want you so much_, she thought shamelessly. _If only we were back at home right now, I'd show you just how much but this will have to do."_

He kissed her back just as devoutly, and her hands slipped down over his chest to join themselves around his waist. Through the fine wool of his tailored jacket Zach's body heat radiated, enveloping Kendall in the warmth and security that both tethered her to the ground and sent her soaring, so that even the tension of that brief contact was enough to make her melt inside.

With difficulty, Kendall lifted her face. "Not mine, Zach. _Ours_."

"Ours," he agreed.

"Besides, after what you've done for Miranda, she's more yours than mine anyway—_Zach_!" Suddenly, Kendall backed out of their embrace, staring at him in consternation with her hand clasped to her mouth.

His head cocked to the side, in what passed for puzzlement with the normally implacably self-possessed Zach. "What?"

"I forgot all about your—your punctures! How could I do that?" she asked in remorse, shaking her head. "Look at you, Zach, it's bad enough you're up and dressed and rescuing me from scenes here, when you're supposed to be resting at home—but I just made you run for the elevator—and I was all over you just now—"

"You should know the pain I'm in isn't that type of pain." He gave a wry smile, accompanied with a seductive tone of voice that was for her ears only.

But Zach still appeared bemused, even more so than before, and Kendall's heart did a flip-flop. Something was wrong, even if he thought he was keeping it from her or attributing it to a cause as much pleasure as pain. "You can't hide it from me—I did hurt you! Please, Zach. Let me take you home now. I don't want you to overdo it. We don't have to get the license today." Not to mention which, the back of her neck was tingling like crazy again. Was she coming down with some kind of weird virus, or was free-floating anxiety wreaking havoc with her too receptive nerve endings?

"Kendall…my sweet Kendall, you didn't hurt me. D'you know what"—looking down at himself, Zach's smile turned to somewhat of a puzzled expression—"The aching's stopped."

Before she could respond, the elevator doors sliding open again. Kendall realized she'd been too preoccupied with Zach to have even pressed the floor indicator button. Indeed, they were still on the same floor, as evidenced by Father Clarence standing framed within the two open doors' wide gap, blocking the light.

"Miss Hart. Mr. Slater. How considerate of you to hold the lift when you were in such a hurry," he beamed, stepping forward into the car—very lightly for his large size—despite Kendall's immediate withdrawal toward Zach. Was the old man was following them?

"We didn't—," she began rudely, but Zach interrupted. Reaching around toward the button panel, he asked, "Lobby?" When the priest nodded, Zach made the elevator descend without further comment.

Kendall's stomach lurched along with the downward motion. Her neck tingled even more abominably. Impossible to tell whether the abrupt end of her interlude with Zach, the drag of gravity, or Father Clarence's presence was the main cause, but she intended to share that discomfort with the priest , trying to pierce his composure with her angry gaze and some sharp words. "Why in the hell do you keep tailing us? Didn't you just announce to me last night you were leaving town? Or did you want somebody to throw you a bon voyage party? Because if that's what it takes, that can be arranged."

She felt Zach's alertness increase, as if he too wanted to know the priest's real purpose, but as usual his silence gave nothing away. The priest answered quite mildly, "To be sure, Miss Hart, did I ever say I was on a strict schedule? Paths have been known to cross quite innocently with one another, you know."

"Yeah? Well, I don't like the way yours keeps crossing mine, Father Clarence."

The priest gave a tiny bow, insofar as the narrow space between them would allow. "Would you deny an old man the rare pleasure of crossing paths with you, Miss Hart?"

"Oh, please, like it's random?" Kendall glared at the old man, whose manner remained one of such utter, bland, imperviousness, that she wanted to scream. Especially when the elevator ground to a stop to let several passengers board and she was forced to hold her fire. But when the elevator stopped again to disgorge the newcomers, leaving them alone again, she spat, "So you creep around town like an extra in a straight-to-video exorcism movie just for the _hell_ of it?"

"Why, Miss Hart, you flatter me—"

Kendall pounced. "No, Father Clarence, _I'm on to you_. You always have a reason for showing up. You did with Bianca, you did with J.R. You did with me last year. So don't expect me to believe you don't have one now."

The shaggy white eyebrows peaked placidly. "Ah, and did I ever say it was random, Miss Hart? Could anyone, having made the acquaintance of your lovely sister Bianca Montgomery—as I did the Christmas before last—fail to take at least a wee bit of interest in her family's welfare—and her beautiful daughter _Miranda's_ family, that would be, as well?"

_Miranda's family_. Again, Kendall sensed Zach's acute attentiveness.

Then he spoke. "Now I'm part of the family—will you enlighten me about this interest of yours, Father?"

The unmistakable challenge Kendall herself would have issued behind such a request was absent from Zach's low, carefully measured words: He was feeling his way very carefully. Too carefully, in Kendall's opinion. She said shortly, "You're asking the wrong person, Zach. Father Clarence doesn't do enlightenment. He does _mysterious_." But uneasily, she thought, _I guess I'm not much better—because I didn't exactly tell you the whole story either, Zach. I held out on you last night about Clarence and Bianca, and about him and me—but—but it just weirds me out too much to talk about._

The elevator came to rest at the main lobby level. Once more the doors slid smoothly open on their tracks. Every bit as smoothly, as if he possessed the capability to have just read her mind, Father Clarence replied, "As we're such old friends, perhaps _you_ would care to do the honors then, Miss Hart?"

"Me? Zach asked _you_," Kendall stammered. Turning her back on the priest and grabbing for her fiancé's hand, she didn't wait for Zach's input. She pulled him through into the hospital's common waiting area—theoretically, onto more solid ground. She pretended to ignore the clicking of Father Clarence's heels behind them…pretended that, even though Zach allowed her to take the lead, the answering grip of his fingers signaled the message that hers was not the upper hand. And, before they reached the main exit, Zach's footsteps slowed to a stop, forcing Kendall to do the same.

"Not so fast," he said quietly.

"But Zach, we can't afford to waste much more time. Come on, let's go, _please_, before Greenlee gets tired of waiting and gets it in her head to take off to—to Tokyo for sushi or—or Antarctica for roast penguin," she pleaded.

"I don't think that'll happen. Kendall—"

"Okay, all right, then, we can walk a little slower if you need to. You're still recovering." But she knew—and knew Zach knew she knew—he wasn't referring to their physical progress.

"Kendall, I don't need your help to walk," he said decidedly. "What I need is for you to fill me in on the beginning of that exorcism movie you mentioned. It started without me but you know how it began."

_Damn_, but her neck was tingling…the sensation was spreading to her shoulders. Like pricks from a thousand little pins jabbing in and out in waves of sensation, too sharp to count as a tickle, too fine to count as pain.

"Kendall?"

"Zach, if you really want to know I'll tell you," she sighed. "I'll tell you on the way to the courthouse."

"Good. Then let's go."

Now Zach took the lead. Her hand still in his, Kendall found herself trotting to keep up with his long strides. "Zach, I meant it! You're still recovering from your operation!" she huffed. "You _are_ supposed to be taking it easy, remember?"

"I told you the aching stopped, Kendall," he assured her with an almost lightheartedness. "If you didn't keep reminding me of it, I'd forget I had an operation."

Behind her, Kendall heard the faintest of priestly chuckles. Her head spun around, a retort on her lips, but to her shocked surprise there was no bodily sign of Father Clarence. It was as if his unmistakable space-filling shape had vanished without warning into the wide open air of the cavernous lobby. Either that or he had snuck back the other way and reboarded the elevator.

In either event, just as quickly and mystifyingly as it had begun, the tingling in Kendall's neck stopped.


End file.
